?  CAtrR  "»«"-    tOS  ANGELES 


DREAMY  HOLLOW 


TO  THE  GIRL  OF  MY  DREAMS 
— F.  A.  B.— 


SHE  GAZED  UPON  HIS  KINDLY  FACE,  AND  THEN  WITH 

THE  JOY  OF  YOUTHFUL  SPIRITS,  PLACED 

HER  HANDS  OVER  HIS  EYES. 


DREAMY  HOLLOW 


BY 
SUMNER  CHARLES  BRITTON 


A 

LONG  ISLAND 
ROMANCE 


NEW  YORK 
WORLD  SYNDICATE  COMPANY,  INC. 


COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  WORLD  SYNDICATE  COMPANY,  INC. 


MHHTED   1W   THE  U.   S.    A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY      ....  1 

II  WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES       ...  19 

III  A  MESSAGE  FROJI  WIXIFRED      ...  40 

IV  A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE 49 

V  THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     ...  61 

VI  SECRET  SERVICE 77 

VII  THE  NEW  WINIFRED 96 

VIII  HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN    ....  115 

IX  FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES  .     .     .     .  133 

X  THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE    .     .     .  144 

XI '  MARY  JOHNSON 166 

XII  THE  THIRD  DEGREE  ......  188 

XIII  WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE     .     .     .     .  216 

XIV  GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE       ....  242 
XV  PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK 259 

XVI  THE  HUT  ACROSS  THE  BAY  ....  279 

XVII  THE  WOLF  HOUND 288 

XVIII  FLIGHT  OF  A  SOUL  301 


212563O 


DREAMY  HOLLOW 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   HOUSE   OP    MYSTERY 

DREAMY  HOLLOW  may  be  reached  three  ways 
— by  automobile,  aeroplane  or  boat  through 
Great  South  Bay.  But  to  go  there  without  invi- 
tation would  have  spoiled  the  welcome,  for,  at  the 
time  of  which  we  write,  the  master  of  this  mag- 
nificent acreage  was  a  man  of  square  jaw,  pro- 
truding forehead,  and  very  punctilious.  He  also 
possessed  two  deep  blue  eyes  that  set  far  back 
under  brows  of  extra  overhang — eyes  that  re- 
flected the  soul  when  tranquil,  but  in  heat  of 
passion,  turned  to  lead. 

A  forest  of  trees  and  kindred  foliage  protected 
his  gleaming  villa  from  the  prying  gaze  of  curious 
tourists.  Only  from  the  water  side  could  it  be 
seen  at  all.  When  it  was  learned  that  the  great 
concrete  walls  topped  by  heavy  iron  pickets  ad- 


2  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

mitted  of  no  entrance  except  by  invitation,  the 
sight-seeing  tourist  scorned  the  gatekeeper's 
apology  and  scurried  away  along  the  gasoline 
trail. 

For  quite  a  long  period  much  mystery  existed 
as  to  the  ownership  of  the  magnificent  estate,  but 
this  much  was  known:  that  for  five  straight 
years  the  great  house  stood  empty.  No  one  was 
seen  to  come  or  go,  save  the  watchman  at  the 
ornate  iron  gates  opening  upon  the  motor  park- 
way, and  his  fellow  guardsmen  in  charge  of  the 
estate  far  in  behind  the  trees  and  bushes, — out 
of  sight.  It  wras  built  by  a  trust  company,  and 
whoever  might  be  the  owner,  he  came  by  sea 
at  rare  intervals  and  sailed  away  at  night.  Only 
a  chosen  few  had  visited  him  there,  but  they  came 
as  he  came,  and  departed  with  him  as  he  went 
away.  Thus  the  wondrous  white  home  with  its 
wealth  of  trees  and  shrubs  came  to  be  known  to 
the  families  of  neighboring  estates  as  "Spooky 
Hollow." 

Drury  Villard,  after  amassing  a  most  pro- 
digious fortune,  suddenly  appeared  before  his  di- 
rectors one  bright  June  morning,  and  announced 
his  retirement  forthwith,  whereat  there  was  great 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY      3 

consternation.  For  a  time  the  silence  following 
his  announcement  became  so  tense  that,  as  Presi- 
dent, he  felt  it  necessary  to  say  something  more 
definite.  Gathered  about  him  were  men  who 
had  carried  his  message  all  over  the  world  and 
had  sold  it  for  cash.  Never  had  they  known  a 
human  specimen  of  such  overwhelming  energy 
of  body  and  mind.  Although  strong  in  them- 
selves, individually,  and  as  a  group,  they  knew 
they  were  merely  "spokes  in  the  wheel"  of  a  giant 
intellect.  They  had  carried  his  banner  into 
every  port,  and  that  banner  had  spelled  pros- 
perity for  every  agency  that  held  it  aloft.  But 
the  Master  Mind  would  quit!  Now  he  would 
lay  aside  his  life  work  and  "desert"  the  greatest 
organization  of  its  kind  in  the  world!  It 
amounted  to  just  that — desertion — to  those  who 
had  grown  up  with  the  business — their  all  was 
involved. 

The  stern  faces  of  the  strong  men  about  him 
finally  brought  President  Villard  to  his  feet  and 
caused  him  to  walk  nervously  to  and  fro  across 
the  room.  Every  eye  was  upon  him,  and  he  knew 
in  advance  each  man's  thoughts,  so  intimate  had 
his  relations  been  with  them.  It  was  his  inten- 


4  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

tion  to  be  frank.  He  meant  to  tell  them  every- 
thing about  his  future  plans,  but  he  who  had 
always  dominated  now  halted,  ill  at  ease.  For 
once  in  his  life  he  exhibited  a  diffidence  of  speech 
in  the  presence  of  his  directors.  They  would 
most  likely  think  his  reasons  silly — perhaps  they 
would  think  him  crazy!  Above  all  else  he 
wanted,  as  he  well  deserved,  their  lasting  good 
will.  Under  no  circumstances  would  he  forfeit 
that ;  but  there  were  certain  men  in  the  organiza- 
tion who  might  feel  that  he  was  in  the  act  of 
jeopardizing  their  future  welfare.  Each  was  a 
special  partner  and  entitled  to  the  truth,  there- 
fore he  determined  to  put  his  case  squarely  up  to 
them  as  a  group,  regardless  of  their  attitude  to- 
ward himself.  With  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him  he  finally  came  to  a  standstill  before  them 
and  dreamily  peered  into  their  faces. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  his  lips  curving  into  a  queer 
little  smile,  "I've  got  to  quit — but  I  won't  desert 
YOU.  I  shall  do  nothing  that  will  subtract  from 
what  you  have,  nor  will  I  retard  your  progress 
in  pursuit  of  your  goal.  I  have  enough — more 
than  I  ever  wanted — more  than  is  good  for  any 
one  man  to  possess.  But  for  you,  untiring  faith- 


fuls  that  you  are,  I  should  have  said  'good-bye' 
to  this  great  business  five  years  ago." 

Being  a  man  of  few  words  he  stopped  short 
and  leaned  back  against  the  wall  where  he  stood 
as  one  at  bay  until  the  silence  became  awkward. 
Then  in  a  soft  sympathetic  voice  a  member  of 
his  board  of  directors  spoke. 

"Why,  Mr.  Villard — why  would  you  have  done 
this,  when  at  that  time  your  zeal  was  at  its 
height?" 

Vice-President  Parkins  asked  this  question  in 
all  good  humor. 

"Because  I  feared  to  lose  my  soul  in  pursuit 
of  riches  that  I  did  not  need.  Besides,  I  was 
building  my  future  home  at  Dreamy  Hollow.  I 
felt  that  I  should  need  one  as  I  was  on  the  point 
of  marriage.  None  of  you  know  that,  however," 
concluded  the  President,  with  a  far-away  gleam 
in  his  eyes. 

Man  of  silence  and  strength,  he  paused  for  a 
moment  and  again  paced  the  floor.  Finally  he 
said,  simply,  a  whimsical  expression  lighting  up 
his  face:  "She  died — but  I  went  ahead  and 
built  a  home  for  her  just  the  same.  It  has  taken 
years  to  make  it  into  a  place  she  would  have 


6  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

loved.  Now,  at  last,  it  is  ready.  Maybe  she  will 
hover  about  it  some  of  the  time,  so  I  want  to  be 
there.  I  want  to  be  near  at  hand,  so  that " 

President  Villard  stopped  suddenly  and  looked 
helplessly  about  him,  for  there  were  strange 
lights  in  the  eyes  of  more  than  one  member  of 
the  board,  and  by  each  man's  sobered  face  was 
shown  a  deep  sympathy.  He  looked  upon  them 
in  amazement,  and,  suddenly  taking  his  seat  at 
the  head  of  the  directors'  table,  broke  out  in  his 
accustomed  voice. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "we  must  now  come  to 
order  and  proceed  with  matters  to  be  passed 
upon  by  the  Board.  The  first  thing  is  my  resig- 
nation. In  support  of  that  I  most  earnestly  be- 
speak your  hearty  concurrence.  I  must  be  re- 
lieved. Parkins  is  the  man.  He  has  been  the 
real  head  of  this  corporation  for  years — yes,  you 
have  Bill,"  said  he,  insistently — "and  all  of  us 
know  it.  You  are  the  'System  Sam'  of  the 
concern,  and  I  won't  desert  you  by  any  means. 
Make  me  Chairman  of  the  Board,  if  you  think 
best,  and  I'll  come  to  the  annual  meeting,  or  any 
time  you  really  want  me,  but  I  trust  that  you  will 
find  my  presence  unnecessary.  There  need  be  no 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY      7 

outside  talk.  Just  say  that  I  am  playing  with  my 
new  home,  but  am  still  in  the  ring.  Go  on  with 
the  business,  boys.  It's  yours  from  now  on.  I'll 
gradually  draw  out  and  let  go  of  some  stock  from 
time  to  time  in  equal  shares  to  you  who  have 
carried  the  hod.  I  shall  keep  some  of  it  always 
just  to  be  one  of  you,  but  at  my  death  by  execu- 
tors will  find  advices  from  me  to  dispose  of  any 
remaining  interest  equitably  between  you.  Also 
allow  you  time  to  work  it  out,  if  need  be.  It's  all 
up  to  you." 

What  the  retiring  president  had  to  say  was  so 
entirely  unexpected  that  no  member  of  the  board 
found  words  for  reply,  although  it  was  patent  to 
all  that  a  great  good  fortune  had  been  handed 
them  in  a  fashion  never  to  be  forgotten.  After  a 
tense  period  of  silence  Vice-President  Parkins 
arose  from  his  seat  and,  walking  forward, 
grasped  the  hand  of  the  retiring  president.  A 
look  into  each  other's  eyes  told  of  their  mutual 
trust  and  esteem ;  and  then  one  by  one,  the  direc- 
tors passed  in  review,  several  of  whom  put  an 
arm  about  Villard's  broad  shoulders  and  peered 
through  the  mist  of  their  own  eyes  into  his  seri- 
ous face.  It  was  plain  that  he  wanted  to  be 


8  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

sure  that  each  man  was  satisfied,  and  when  all 
had  paid  their  tributes  of  respect  he  stood  before 
them  irresolutely  for  a  moment — then,  without 
looking  back,  walked  out  of  the  room. 

Drury  Villard  carried  no  heart  upon  his  sleeve. 
His  was  a  vigorous  nature  and  he  was  determined 
that  his  first  real  attempt  at  home  life  should 
light  his  path  toward  contentment.  No  one 
could  have  dreamed  that  this  indefatigable  speci- 
man  of  the  strenuous  life  could  so  easily  adjust 
himself  to  the  new  order  of  things.  The  usual 
servants,  male  and  female,  amply  vouched  for  by 
expert  agencies,  had  entered  quickly  and  at  once 
became  a  part  of  his  orderly  household.  There 
had  been  no  fussy  superintendence  on  the  part 
of  any  one,  each  member  of  the  menage  quietly 
walking  into  an  appointed  place,  to  take  up  the 
duties  belonging  thereto. 

All  this  was  to  the  liking  of  the  master,  whose 
"stock"  was  soon  "taken"  by  the  experienced 
coterie  of  servants  who  forthwith  gave  him  their 
approval.  Thenceforward  his  time  was  his  own. 
He  would  lead  a  new  life ;  he  would  make  it  his 
sole  business  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  real 
gentleman  of  leisure.  To  accomplish  this  he 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY       9 

must  discard  by  degrees  all  superfluous  endeavor. 
Every  habit  of  haste  and  impatience  must  be 
thrown  overboard.  Tranquillity  of  mind  and 
body  must  be  transplanted  in  their  stead.  He 
had  a  vague  notion  that  his  loneliness  would 
soon  vanish  and  that  certain  seeds  of  content- 
ment implanted  by  fixed  habits,  together  with 
forces  not  hitherto  encountered,  would,  in  time, 
lead  him  "beside  the  still  waters," — away  from 
the  storms  of  life.  He  welcomed  the  thought.  It 
stood  out  as  a  rainbow  of  promise  before  his 
mind's  eye,  and  took  root  within  his  bosom. 

As  days  followed  his  occupancy  of  the  great 
home  he  had  builded,  he  became  aware  of  the 
perfect  solace  which  now  permeated  his  inner 
being.  Although  assured  that  he  had  control  of 
his  every  faculty  he  did  not  gloat  over  his  sudden 
surcease  from  sorrow.  There  was  a  reason  for 
everything  and  consequently  no  need  of  haste 
in  forming  "half-baked"  conclusions.  He  had 
been  helped  along  by  a  process  yet  to  be  fathomed 
— most  probably  the  will  to  do.  His  great  home- 
stead, a  marvel  of  exquisite  taste,  also  performed 
its  part  in  the  transformation.  But  there  was 
something  deeper  still,  an  underlying  cause,  that 


10  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

mystified  him.  Then,  all  at  once,  a  great  thought 
crept  forward — was  she  near?  Did  she  know 
all — everything  about  his  great  longing  for  her? 
His  heart  seemed  to  stand  still ! 

He  gazed  out  of  the  window ;  evening  shadows 
had  fallen.  He  had  been  seated  in  a  huge 
cushioned  chair  seemingly  for  a  long  time.  The 
room  was  noiseless  but  for  the  deep  moaning  of 
the  waters  of  Great  South  Bay  lapping  at  the 
beach.  Then — vaguely — he  thought  he  heard  a 
voice ;  "Drury !"  it  seemed  to  call. 

Villard  roused  himself  and  stood  upon  his  feet. 
He  wondered  at  the  calm  within  him,  and  with 
glad  voice  shouted  back:  "Winifred!  you  have 
called  to  me !  Speak  again,  dear  one !  I— 

"There  is  no  death! — There  is  no  death!" 
came  the  answer  clear  and  joyous — and  then  a 
stillness  fell  upon  the  room,  so  intense  that 
through  a  heavy  metal  door  could  be  heard  the 
ticking  of  a  clock  in  an  adjoining  room. 

Shaken  by  the  experience  Drury  Villard  fell 
back  into  the  soft  upholstery  from  which  position 
he  had  heard  the  voice.  He  must  have  time  to 
think!  What  did  it  all  mean?  How  much  was 
fact — how  much  was  fancy?  Had  he  been 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY    11 

asleep?  Would  it  not  be  best  to  walk  out  along 
his  private  beach  and  breathe  the  salt  air  of 
the  evening  tide,  thus  to  tranquilize  his  mind? 
There  was  nothing  to  brood  about — that  wras  his 
thought.  He  had  witnessed  a  certain  phenom- 
enon, the  secret  of  which  time  must  disclose  to 
him.  He  would  wait,  "patiently  and  without 
stress  of  mind,"  was  his  sober  conclusion.  In 
fact,  as  he  walked  out  along  the  sandy  path  lead- 
ing to  the  water's  edge  he  found  himself  su- 
premely happy  over  his  wonderful  adventure. 
His  Winifred  had  kept  the  tryst ! — such  was  his 
impression. 

From  within  the  great  obscuring  veil  she  had 
spoken,  had  called  his  name, — had  fulfilled  the 
promise  she  had  given  while  in  the  life ! 

"  'Tis  naught  for  Sun  to  shine,"  he  quoted. 
"God  works  in  a  mysterious  way  His  wonders 
to  perform.  There  is  no  death,  says  my  Wini- 
fred. Then  must  I  strive  with  all  my  soul  to 
meet  her  in  the  great  beyond!  But  I  must  not 
brood  over  this  matter.  I  feel  the  need  of  fellow- 
ship. I'll  send  for  Parkins  and  put  my  story 
before  him.  I  must  have  some  one  in  whom  to 


12  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

confide,"  and  forthwith  he  put  his  plan  into  ac- 
tion. 

Never  was  a  man  more  seemingly  delighted 
than  William  Parkins  wken  a  "long  distance'' 
call  from  the  Master  of  Dreamy  Hollow  invited 
him  over  for  the  week-end. 

"I'm  just  beginning  to  want  to  pal  with  some- 
body I  know.  Five  weeks  is  a  long  time  to  wait 
for  friends  to  invite  themselves,  so  I'm  going  to 
start  in  from  my  end.  You're  first  on  the  list, 
and  the  first  invitation  is  yours.  I  won't  take  no 
for  an  answer." 

"You  will  not  have  to,  my  dear  fellow.  I'm 
most  happy  to  have  the  opportunity.  Which 
way  shall  I  go  out?'' 

"My  boat  will  take  you  on  board  at  your  pleas- 
ure any  time  after  noon  on  Friday,  and  will  land 
you  back  at  the  same  Forty-second  Street  Pier 
at  such  time  as  you  suggest." 

"Well,  now,  that  would  be  perfectly  bully! 
Let's  see — your  estate  joins  the  Sawyer  Place, 
does  it  not?" 

"Yes — on  the  east.  His  hedgerow  is  the  divid- 
ing line  between  us." 

"Then   I  know  exactly  how  to  get  to  you,  so  I 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MYSTERY     13 

shall  taxi  over,"  replied  Parkins  with  enthusi- 
asm. "You  see  I  can  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone  by  stealing  away  Friday  afternoon  and 
motoring  over  to  my  fishing  hut  at  Patchogue — 
wonderful  flounders  down  there !  I  have  my  own 
boat  and  I  want  to  see  what  condition  she's  in,  so 
I'll  get  over  to  your  place  by  noon  on  Sunday. 
How  does  that  suit  your  convenience?" 

"Nothing  could  be  better." 

"Then  it's  a  go — and  many  thanks.  Bye,  sir," 
concluded  Parkins,  in  his  usual  courteous  way. 

"Bye,  old  boy.  I  await  you  with  great  impa- 
tience. Speed  the  day — S'long — keep  yourself 
good." 

A  delightful  sense  of  anticipation  came  into 
the  mind  of  Drury  Villard  as  he  hung  the  re- 
ceiver. He  felt  the  need  of  fellowship  and  upon 
Parkins'  acceptance  his  great  frame  took  on  a 
certain  vigor  that  called  for  action.  He  must 
hurry  the  time  away  that  intervened  before  Par- 
kins should  arrive  on  Sunday.  He  must  make 
plans.  Perhaps  Doctor  Sawyer  of  the  adjacent 
estate  would  join  him  in  a  dinner  of  welcome. 

Such  a  plan  would  brush  away  all  business 
talk,  sure  to  take  place  if  Parkins  and  himself 


14  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

were  left  alone  the  first  evening.  His  idea  was  to 
dodge  business  altogether.  Parkins  needed  a 
rest,  and,  as  for  himself,  he  had  no  heart  for  ordi- 
nary commercial  chit-chat.  He  held  a  great 
secret  in  his  bosom,  a  precious  secret,  and  even 
with  so  good  a  friend  as  Parkins  he  would  be 
chary  of  sharing  it.  For  the  present,  pending 
the  arrival  of  his  visitor,  he  had  much  in  mind 
with  which  to  occupy  himself.  Parkins  must 
find  an  improvement  in  him,  therefore  he  wrould 
hasten  his  plan  of  mastering  the  secret  of  com- 
posure. His  great  experience  of  the  afternoon 
might  be  repeated  if  he  could  but  put  his  mind 
in  condition  to  receive  it.  Wonderful  thought ! — 
and  he  would  strive  to  bring  it  about. 

First  of  all,  for  the  sake  of  health,  another 
walk  along  the  beach  seemed  practical,  and  obey- 
ing the  impulse,  Villard  soon  found  himself 
strolling  leisurely  over  the  path  leading  to  the 
waters  of  the  bay.  He  could  hear  the  heavy 
intonation  of  the  milling  tide  as  it  broke  upon 
the  sands,  long  before  he  reached  his  destina- 
tion. Its  deep  muffled  roar  was  not  unlike  the 
reveille  of  a  drum  corps  in  a  far-away  encamp- 
ment. As  he  neared  his  destination,  such  was 


THE  HOUSE   OF  MYSTERY     15 

his  serenity  of  mind  that  he  felt  himself  in  tune 
with  all  nature  from  earth  to  sky.  His  whole 
being  thrilled  at  the  wonderful  message  from  his 
dead  love. 

"There  is  no  death !"  he  murmured — and  then, 
in  lower  tone,  almost  a  whisper,  he  repeated — 
"there  is  no  death — my  beloved  knows  the 
truth!'' 

"Oh,  Winifred,"  he  cried  aloft,  "speak  again 
to  me !  Tell  me  that  you  are  near — that  I  may 

hope — that  I  may "  and  then  a  chilling  blast 

swept  over  the  sauds  that  sent  a  shiver  through 
his  body.  A  voice  shouted — a  voice  he  knew  and 
loved  so  well.  It  seemed  to  say — "Life  never 
dies!" — as  clear  as  ever  a  human  tongue  could 
bear  a  message.  It  was  the  same  sweet  voice  as 
of  old,  but  all-pervading,  seeming  to  completely 
encompass  the  eager  man  on  all  sides — and  from 
below,  and  from  above.  His  eyes  opened  wide  in 
amazement  as  he  put  forth  his  whole  strength 
to  control  his  senses.  A  man  of  iron  will,  he 
would  not  fail  himself  at  such  a  supreme  mo- 
ment! Near  unto  him  was  the  spirit  of  his 
dead,  the  soul  of  his  loved  one — a  second  visita- 
tion. 


1«6  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Speak  on,  my  Winifred !"  he  whispered  hoarse- 
ly, while  attempting  to  shout  his  words. 

"Life,  itself,  is  everlasting !"  rang  out  the  voice 
once  more.  "The  body  dies  when  the  soul  takes 
flight — it  is  no  more  in  being." 

"Yes,  go  on,  my  loved  one!    Tell  me " 

"Life  is  a  common  fund — endless — vast  as  the 
heavens — encompassing  all  space.  Life  is  univer- 
sal— it  permeates,  and  through  constant  vibra- 
tion animates  all  living  things,  from  the  blade  of 
grass  to  the  human  soul — but  the  body  dies,  and 
returns  to  earth." 

"And  of  the  soul,  my  Winifred?  Tell  me  all 
that  I  should  know,  that  I " 

"Within  the  last  moment  of  your  life,  when 
your  soul  prepares  to  take  its  flight,  all  shall  be 
revealed  to  you.  Your  soul  is  the  mentor  of  your 
brain,  and  the  master  of  your  conscience.  By  vir- 
tue of  its  quality  will  its  destiny  be  governed. 
...  So  live,  my  Drury,  that  when  your  body 
dies  your  soul  shall  take  the  flight  which  leads 
to  everlasting  life." 

"And  we  shall  meet  again,  Winifred? — and 
know  each  other " 


THE  HOUSE   OF  MYSTERY?    17 

"The  test  lies  with  you.  I'll  be  waiting,  Drury 
— waiting " 

The  voice  ceased,  and  Villard,  startled  by  the 
unfinished  sentence,  heard  a  faint  sound  as  if  a 
silken  kerchief  had  fluttered  forth  upon  the 
breezes.  At  once  the  air  seemingly  regained  its 
usual  warmth,  the  chilling  blast  following  along 
in  the  wake  of  the  departing  spirit. 

Greatly  agitated  the  astonished  man  looked 
about  him  as  one  who  had  but  just  awakened 
from  a  dream.  Nevertheless  he  nerved  himself 
into  a  full  control  of  his  faculties  as  one  of  his 
great  mental  poise  is  ever  capable.  He  felt  sure 
that  his  sanity  was  perfect.  He  had  experienced 
an  extraordinary  visitation,  but  it  had  left  no 
uncanny  feeling  within  his  bosom.  His  real 
anxiety,  if  any,  was  the  fear  that  the  spirit  of 
his  loved  one  had  revealed  too  much — such  was 
her  love  for  him — and  that  future  visitations 
might  thereby  be  thwarted.  Against  that  pos- 
sibility he  compelled  himself  to  concentrate  every 
force  of  his  intellect  and  every  ounce  of  his  soul — 
and  with  that  resolve  he  turned  his  footsteps  to- 
ward his  home,  his  body  erect,  his  face  illumined 
— his  heart  enraptured. 


18  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Winifred!"  he  whispered,  over  and  over 
again,  and,  as  he  neared  his  stately  mansion — all 
quiet,  serene,  and  beautiful  to  look  upon — a  great 
wave  of  regret  seized  him  because  she  had  never 
crossed  its  threshold  "in  the  life." 


CHAPTER  II. 

WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES 

THE  arrival  of  William  Parkins  on  schedule 
time,  all  energy  and  activity,  completely  changed 
the  atmosphere  of  the  peaceful  home  at  Dreamy 
Hollow.  Parkins  could  not  sit  still.  His  face, 
red  with  sunburn,  seemed  that  of  a  dissipated 
man.  He  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  or  paced  the  floor 
while  talking  incessantly  about  the  business  and 
its  prospects.  He  had,  since  Villard's  retire- 
ment, become  its  "steering  wheel,"  according  to 
his  own  estimation.  Others  in  the  great  organi- 
zation who,  with  no  shouting  of  self-praise,  had 
suddenly  become  open  game  for  his  shafts  of 
criticism.  With  blearing  eyes  he  asserted  that 
if  left  to  himself  he  would  buy  out  the  interest 
of  two  or  more  stockholders — "dead  ones" — he 
called  them,  but  for  the  fact  that  his  own  con- 
tract with  Villard  had  foreclosed  upon  the  possi- 
bility. In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  had,  by  hint 
and  inuendo,  thrown  a  wet  blanket  over  the 

19 


20  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

future  prospects  of  the  company.  The  morale 
was  "bad."  A  strong  man  was  needed  at  the 
helm — that  was  his  verdict.  And  in  amazement 
Yillard  listened  without  a  word  from  his  lips. 
Had  the  man  suddenly  gone  crazy! — that  was 
his  first  thought,  but — as  Parkins  continued, 
Villard  became  convinced  that  he  was  a  knave. 

"With  your  approval,  Drury,''  said  Parkins, 
assuming  a  new  familiarity,  "I  can  make  a  great 
institution  out  of  the  company.  It  would  be  no 
trick  for  me  to  put  all  competition  out  of  busi- 
ness. In  fact,  I  have  a  plan " 

"What  would  you  do  with  the  present  organi- 
zation?" Drury  Yillard  asked  softly,  but  with  a 
glint  in  his  eyes  that  should  have  warned  his 
guest  of  a  lack  of  sympathy  toward  such  a 
scheme. 

"I'd  scrap  it !"  replied  Parkins,  with  energy. 

"Scrap  it!" 

Villard  raised  himself  to  a  straight-up  sitting 
posture. 

"Completely — and  I'll  tell  you  why,"  replied 
Parkins,  with  an  air  of  finality.  "The  boys  are 
getting  along  in  years.  They  are  old-fashioned. 
Business  has  hardened  since  they  started  in, 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      21 

away  back  there,  and  they  don't  seem  to  know  it. 
'Let  well  enough  alone'  is  the  invisible  motto 
they  seem  to  see  hanging  upon  the  wall.  It 
makes  me  sick — this  nonchalance.  They  golf 
Saturdays,  go  to  the  shows  at  night,  dine  out 
with  their  wives,  spend  a  lot  of  money  and  come 
down  to  business  next  morning  unfit  for  their 
duties." 

"I'd  think  they  would  work  with  more  energy 
for  having  taken  a  little  pleasure  as  they  go 
along — and  their  wives  should  share  in  it!" 

Villard  smiled  into  the  eyes  of  his  visitor  as 
he  awaited  his  answer,  although  his  soul  revolted 
at  the  change  in  the  man  he  had  made  vice-presi- 
dent of  "Villard  Incorporated." 

"Perhaps  they  might — more  likely  they 
won't,"  replied  Parkins,  his  voice  snappy  and 
hard.  "Business  is  good,  all  right.  Sales  are  big- 
ger, but  that  comes  from  my  work,  and  as  com- 
plete head  of  the  company,  I  could  give  it  not 
only  greater  national  scope  but  greater  interna- 
tional scope  as  well.  I  tell  you  this  because  you 
hold  the  key  to  the  situation,  and  you'll  agree 
that  it  takes  a  blood  and  iron  policy  to  succeed 
on  a  big  scale." 


22  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Yes,  partly  true/'  replied  Villard,  whose 
facial  expression  gave  no  clew  to  his  real 
thoughts.  But  had  William  Parkins  known  the 
trend  of  the  Villard  mind  he  would  have  packed 
his  apparel  and  returned  to  New  York.  For  a 
man  of  his  shrewdness  his  blunder  had  been  colos- 
sal. Having  enthused  himself  to  believe  he  was 
on  the  right  track,  and  failing  to  note  downright 
objection  on  the  part  of  his  host  toward  the 
trend  of  his  conversation,  he  began  a  long  drawn 
out  indictment  against  each  member  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"It  isn't  a  case  of  let  well  enough  alone,  even 
if  it  is  true  that  we  have  done  especially  well," 
said  he.  "But  my  plans  mean  millions,  not  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  and  nothing  should  be  al- 
lowed to  stand  in  the  way  of  them — not  even  the 
men  who  have  grown  up  with  the  business.  With 
your  help  I  can  buy  every  interest,  and  if  you 
consent  I'll  quadruple  your  fortune  in  a  couple 
of  years.  Of  course,  I'd  keep  some  of  the  men. 
All  I  need  is  the  nucleus  from  which  to  expand 
— and  your  consent  to  proceed." 

Parkins'  face  glowed  with  pride  at  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  presented  his  case. 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      23 

"There  is  a  certain  change  in  your  appear- 
ance, William,  since  I  last  saw  you.  Anything 
happened  to  disturb  your  mind?"  inquired  Vil- 
lard. 

"Not  a  thing,  sir.  I've  been  working  hard — 
very  hard,  Drury.  This  little  trip  to  Patchogue 
over  the  week-ends  is  about  all  I  do.  I  like  to 
fish,  and  drive  my  car.  They  are  the  extent  of 
my  pleasures.  That's  what  makes  my  face  red — 
sunburn !"  laughed  Parkins. 

Villard  smiled  affably  and  agreed  that  the 
ozone  from  salt  water  was  almost  the  elixir  of 
life.  Then,  referring  to  Parkins1  aspirations  to 
become  President  of  the  company,  he  said : 

"I'll  think  the  matter  over  and  let  you  know 
before  you  return  to  the  city.  At  the  moment  I'm 
thinking  of  the  jolly  good  dinner  we're  going  to 
have.  I've  invited  Doctor  Sawyer  to  join  us. 
He  lives  across  the  hedge  and  I  screwed  up  the 
courage  to  introduce  myself.  When  two  sit  at 
a  table  alone  they  are  apt  to  talk  over  business 
matters,  but  a  third  person  makes  it  a  party. 
How's  that  for  an  idea?" 

"All  right,  I  suppose — three — yes,  of  course.  It 
is  all  right,  and  very  thoughtful  of  you,  to  be 


24  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

sure,  although  I've  heard  it  said  that  two  is 
company,  and  three  is  a  crowd.  However,  I'm 
delighted  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  the  loctor. 
Is  he  an  old  resident — one  of  our  plutocrats?" 

"That,  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Villard.  "His 
estate  is  magnificent  and  his  home  beautiful.  I 
do  hope  he  will  turn  out  to  be  sociable.  It  is  not 
well  to  dwell  too  much  alone.  We  must  not 
blight  our  minds  through  lack  of  exercise.  The 
brain  should  have  its  share  as  well  as  the  body. 
And  also  a  certain  amount  of  rest." 

"I  presume  you  are  right,  although  this  is  the 
first  time  I  have  considered  the  subject.  I  give 
no  thought  to  those  matters — time  wasted,  I'd 
say." 

Parkins,  the  impatient,  did  not  relish  such  con- 
versation and  would  have  taken  the  short  cut 
back  to  business  talk  had  not  the  announcement 
of  Doctor  Sawyer's  arrival  stopped  him.  The 
introduction  to  the  doctor  was  without  warmth 
on  either  side ;  the  regulation  pump  handle  shake 
of  the  hands  left  both  without  a  word  or  a  smile 
for  each  other.  Drury  Villard  was  quick  to 
notice  that  neither  guest  regarded  the  other 
more  than  casually. 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      25 

"Mr.  Parkins  is  connected  with  our  company, 
and  since  my  retirement  from  business  has  pre- 
sided over  the  Board  meetings/'  volunteered  Vil- 
lard. 

"Indeed !"  responded  the  Doctor  gravely. 

"Yes,  and  I  am  making  things  hum!"  added 
Parkins.  "It  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  shall 
want  to  hibernate,  even  in  such  a  lovely  spot  as 
this.  Action,  action — I  crave  it!  I  must  keep 
on  the  jump.  Very  pretty  down  here,  though. 
Both  of  you  have  been  prodigal  with  your  money, 
but  I'll  wager  neither  of  you  could  sell  for  the 
amount  you've  spent." 

For  several  long  seconds  no  answer  came  from 
either  the  host  or  his  neighbor.  Finally  the 
latter  broke  the  silence  by  saying,  "ahem !"  Drury 
Villard,  however,  did  give  Parkins  a  sharp  look ; 
then  almost  rudely  said: 

"Perhaps  each  of  us  should  decide  for  him- 
self how  he  shall  spend  his  means.  'One  man's 
food  is  another  man's  poison' — according  to  an 
old  saying  that  still  holds  true." 

"Yes,  all  very  well,"  persisted  Parkins,  "but 
the  wealth  both  of  you  have  poured  into  your  es- 
tates might  easily  have  endowed  a  great  hospital, 


26  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

or  capitalized  a  huge  business,  giving  employ- 
ment to  many  people." 

At  this  point  Mr.  Sawyer  frowned,  and  with 
his  fingers  nervously  thrumbed  the  arm  of  his 
chair.  But  he  said  nothing  in  reply.  For- 
tunately announcement  was  made  that  dinner 
was  ready  to  be  served, — and  much  to  the  relief 
of  the  host,  whose  amazement  at  Parkins'  poor 
taste  was  only  equaled  by  his  embarrassment. 
At  once  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  led  the  way 
to  the  dining  hall,  a  great  amphitheater  with  high 
ceiling  starting  from  the  main  floor  and  reaching 
to  the  top  of  the  second  story.  Never  before  had 
the  master  of  Dreamy  Hollow  dined  "in  state"  in 
his  own  home,  preferring  as  he  did  the  breakfast 
room,  unprententious  and  more  inviting — or  a 
nook  on  a  side  portico  overlooking  the  garden 
of  roses,  and  the  inlet  from  the  bay.  Every  ap- 
pointment at  this  great  dining  hall  was  in  keep- 
ing with  its  huge  dimensions  and  the  accoustics 
accentuated  the  voices  of  those  gathered  at  the 
very  large  table  in  its  center. 

"I  have  never  summoned  the  courage  to  dine 
at  this  table  since  I  came  here  to  live/'  laughed 
Villard.  "I  have  been  so  long  completing  the 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      27 

house  that  I  have  not  had  time  to  try  it  on  to 
see  how  it  would  fit." 

"Most  generous  and  beautiful,"  said  Dr.  Saw- 
yer. "I  am  deeply  impressed  with  your  construc- 
tion plan.  I  made  a  failure  of  my  main  dining 
room.  Too  small  by  far.  I  must  do  some  tear- 
ing out  and  rebuilding.  By  the  way,  have  you 
given  your  estate  a  name?"  queried  the  doctor. 

"Dreamy  Hollow,"  replied  Villard. 

"I've  heard  it  called  Spooky  Hollow,"  laughed 
Parkins,  whose  humor  ever  contained  a  dash  of 
acid.  Then  noting  the  frown  upon  Dr.  Saw- 
yer's brow  the  subject  was  changed,  Parkins  tak- 
ing the  lead.  Evidently  the  doctor  had  failed  to 
appreciate  the  little  joke  at  the  expense  of  his 
host. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Parkins,  "there  is  a 
large  institution  out  West  called  the  Sawyer 
Dietariam.  Was  it  named  after  you,  Doctor?" 

"Now,  ah — I  believe  it  was,  although  I  beg 
you  to  believe  that  I  was  opposed  to  the  idea," 
replied  Sawyer,  who  added— "although  I  am  a 
medical  doctor  I  did  not  practice  medicine.  My 
specialty  was  that  of  scientific  diet,  but  they 
would  call  me  doctor." 


28  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Parkins'  face  flushed  red  at  the  thought  of  his 
recent  rudeness  toward  his  fellow-guest.  In  an 
effort  to  straighten  out  matters  he  slapped  his 
hands  upon  the  table  and  gave  voice  to  a  nervous 
sort  of  laughter. 

"Well,  well !  I  did  you  a  great  injustice,  Dr. 
Sawyer,  and  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  most 
courteously.  "You  have  really  been  useful  to 
mankind,  after  all." 

"No  apologies,  please,"  replied  Sawyer,  af- 
fably. "I  am  always  sympathetic  with  those  who 
jump  at  conclusions.  Ah — by  the  way,  I  have 
heard  that  Mr.  Villard,  our  host,  was  most  prodi- 
gal when  he  retired  from  active  business,  going 
so  far  as  to  turn  over  to  his  organization  the 
complete  running  of  the  institution  in  order  that 
each  man  should  have  the  ready  made  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  substantially  rich.  I  don't 
know  the  facts,  nor  did  I  hear  them  from  our 
modest  host.  The  point  is  this,  that  whether  or 
not  he  may  ever  endow  a  charity  his  record  for 
generosity  toward  the  men  who  helped  him  to 
build  his  great  business  lias  teen  warmly  compli- 
mented by  many  leading  financiers  who  know  the 
facts.  Unless  his  example  should  yield  poor  re- 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      29 

suits  I  am  prone  to  believe  that  other  rich  men, 
on  retiring,  will  follow  his  lead.  No  plan  should 
be  followed  wholesale,  as  it  were,  until  some  sort 
of  tabulation  as  to  its  merits  are  consulted.  The 
Villard  experiment  is  being  watched  with  great 
interest." 

"Spied  upon?"  questioned  Parkins,  sharply. 
"I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  it  is!" 

"Nonsense,  Mr.  Parkins!  Business  is  repu- 
table in  these  happy  days.  No  one  concern  can 
get  it  all.  Old  animosities  and  jealousies  have 
been  cast  aside.  Business  is  becoming  standard- 
ized, and,  I  am  happy  to  hope — humanized.  Mer- 
cantile warfare  is  all  but  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Only  the  upstart  and  the  unsophisticated  engage 
in  cut-throat  competition  these  days.  The 
stronger  the  organization  in  brains  and  honesty, 
the  greater  the  outlook  for  success." 

Strange  to  say.  William  Parkins  found  no 
words  with  which  to  combat  the  logic  set  forth  by 
Dr.  Sawyer.  That  he  felt  himself  to  be  entirely 
out  of  the  argument  showed  in  his  demeanor.  Be- 
ing no  fool,  however,  he  saw  that  his  advantage 
lay  in  getting  away  from  the  subject,  and  that  he 
proceeded  to  do.  He  could  feel  the  searching 


30  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

eyes  of  the  veteran  as  spotlights  upon  himself, 
eyes  that  were  unafraid — stern  but  fair,  as  shown 
by  the  kindly  twinkle  that  crept  into  them — like- 
wise the  smile  that  seemed  to  bid  for  good-fellow- 
ship all  around.  That  there  should  be  no  awk- 
ward period  of  silence,  Dr.  Sawyer  changed  the 
subject. 

"I  am  very  much  interested  in  a  book  I  picked 
up  recently,  entitled,  'The  Naked  Truth' — most 
readable  indeed.  I  try  to  laugh  it  out  of  my 
mind,  but  still  find  myself  reading  along  without 
being  bored.  Thus  far  the  author  has  made  a 
pretty  fair  case  in  behalf  of  eternal  life.  There  is 
no  death,  he  says,  and  puts  up  an  argument  that 
I  am  not  able  to  cope  with.  I  have  no  license, 
no  desire  to  dispute  his  statements." 

"All  rot !"  exclaimed  Parkins.  "Of  course  you 
took  no  stock  in  it !  There  is  positively  nothing 
known  beyond  the  grave — I'd  bet  my  head  on 
that." 

As  he  looked  around  for  support  Parkins  noted 
that  his  host  had  suddenly  turned  pale,  also  that 
his  hand  trembled,  and  his  fork  had  fallen  into 
his  plate.  Fearful  that  he  might  have  antago- 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES     31 

nized  Yillard  in  some  ardent  belief,  he  was  glad 
when  Dr.  Sawyer  came  to  the  rescue. 

"I  do  not  believe  any  one  is  competent  to  desig- 
nate this  author's  theories  as  rot/'  said  the 
visitor.  "He  might  be  as  well  assured  of  his 
ground  as  Mr.  Parkins  is  of  his.  Perhaps  he  has 
had  experience  not  yet  a  part  of  Mr.  Parkins' 
stock  of  knowledge !  As  a  fact,  we  have  all  been 
taught  from  childhood  of  a  great  reunion  in  store 
for  us.  The  Bible  is  authority  for  that.  Is  Mr. 
Parkins  able  to  support  a  theory  to  the  con- 
trary?" 

Sawyer  tried  to  catch  Parkins'  eyes,  but  they 
were  fixed  upon  his  plate.  He  then  turned  to- 
ward his  host  with  a  remark  wrhen  he  noticed 
the  pallor  of  Villard's  face,  and  the  trembling 
of  his  hands  resting  upon  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"Are  you  ill,  Mr.  Villard?"  he  inquired,  solici- 
tously. 

The  host  looked  up  and  attempted  to  smile 
away  the  inference.  But  instead,  something  from 
within  prompted  him  to  say: 

"I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  dead 
have  powe**  to  communicate  with  the  living." 


32 

"You  have!"  exclaimed  Doctor  Sawyer,  look- 
ing sharply  at  his  host. 

"It  is  true — I  hare  experienced "  then 

Drury  Villard  halted  abruptly  and  looked  anx- 
iously into  the  faces  of  both  guests.  Each  seemed 
greatly  surprised  at  his  partial  answer.  Perhaps 
they  doubted.  Therefore,  to  a  certain  extent  he 
would  enlighten  them. 

"I  have  witnessed  the  greatest  phenomenon 
possible  to  occur.  Within  a  few  days  I  have 
talked  with  some  one  whom  I  knew  in  the  life !" 

After  Villard's  solemn  declaration  there  fol- 
lowed a  long  pause.  Parkins'  face  became  very 
grave,  but  there  was  a  sharp,  quizzical  look  in 
his  eyes.  There  sat  the  paramount  stockholder 
of  the  corporation  over  which  he  craved  ultimate 
control.  Once  in  that  position  complete  owner- 
ship nnght  easily  be  made  to  pass  along  to  him- 
self. A  person  in  Drury  Villard's  state  of  mind 
surely  needed  legal  guardianship — that  was  his 
notion — therefore,  "why  not,  by  legal  action,  be- 
come that  guardian !" 

This  thought,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  took 
root  at  once,  and  craftily,  and  through  semblance 
of  friendly  credulity,  Parkins  began  to  work 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      33 

upon  the  good  graces  of  his  host.  He  at  once 
decided  to  humor  Villard  in  all  things  put  forth 
in  behalf  of  his  uncanny  belief. 

As  to  Sawyer  lie  could,  perhaps,  through  sub- 
tle diplomacy,  make  of  him  an  innocent  ally.  But 
extreme  caution  would  be  necessary — he  would 
have  to  change  his  tactics,  agree  to  the  Sawyer 
code  of  ethics,  and  above  all,  build  up  in  him  a 
strong  sympathy  for  Villard,  because  of  his  afflic- 
tion. 

"While  I  am  much  surprised  at  your  declara- 
tion, Drury,"  said  Parkins,  "I  can  truly  say 
that  you  have  struck  the  one  chord  nearest  my 
heart.  Brain,  body  and  soul,  I  believe  in  im- 
mortality." 

Parkins'  voice  had  now  become  soft  and  gentle, 
and  a  winning  smile  was  upon  his  lips.  He  ob- 
served Villard's  keen  eyes  searching  him  for 
the  truth.  It  was  a  dangerous  test  to  invite  but 
it  was  successful,  the  host  finally  relaxing  into  a 
state  of  calm.  Having  accepted  Parkins'  over- 
ture as  bona  fide,  Villard,  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief, proceeded. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  have  disclosed  my 
secret,"  said  he,  looking  calmly  into  the  placid 


34  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

face  of  Dr.  Sawyer.  "Probably  because  it  re- 
flected the  yearnings  of  my  soul.  Involuntarily  I 
seem  to  have  sought  the  loyalty  of  my  guests 
toward  the  truth  of  my  statement.-' 

"Of  course,  it  is  true,  Mr.  Villard,"  responded 
Sawyer.  "Why  not?  While  I  have  never  actu- 
ally heard  voices  from  the  outer  world  I  have 
always  yearned  for,  and  expected,  a  message  from 
my  wife.  Also  I  have  believed  with  certainty 
that  I  would  hear  her  voice  in  all  naturalness — 
sometime.  Indeed  I  have  prayed  for  just  that. 
It  is  bound  to  come — I  am  sure  of  it,"  he  finished 
with  a  gulp. 

"There  is  nothing  more  strange  than  our  own 
living  presence  as  we  sit  here  at  this  table."  de- 
clared Parkins  soberly.  "Truly  the  phenomena 
of  death  and  resurrection  are  no  greater  than  life 
itself.  But  it  is  all  s"o  very  unaccountable  that  I 
have  only  my  unshakable  belief  to  make  me  stead- 
fast in  behalf  of  my  senses." 

"Would  you  care  to  say  more  in  relation  to 
your  communication  with  a  spirit  from  the  other 
world?"  asked  Sawyer,  addressing  himself  to  Vil- 
lard. 

"Perhaps,  sometime — but  not  to-night.    I  must 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      35 

make  sure  that  I  am  perfectly  sane,  and  that 
what  I  say  will  be  regarded  as  truth — not  a 
mirage  of  the  brain.  I  must  not  be  set  down  by 
either  of  you  as  a  crazy  man — or  even  a  morbid 
thinker." 

"Quite  right,  Mr.  Villard,"  responded  Sawyer, 
who  had  begun  to  notice  Parkins'  nervous  atti- 
tude. "That  would  be  most  unfair,  considering 
your  successful  career." 

"The  world  is  not  ready  to  believe  in  the  re- 
turn of  souls  to  comfort  the  living,"  continued 
Drury  Villard.  "I  shall  strive  the  harder  for 
another  contact  with  the  presence  of  that  won- 
derful spirit.  I  knew  her  in  the  life,  and  I  loved 
her.  She  would  have  been  my  wife  years  ago, 
but  for  her  untimely  death.  Now  that  I  so 
greatly  need  her  she  has  found  a  way  through  the 
great  veil  to  give  me  cheer." 

As  Villard  finished  his  declaration,  Dr.  Saw- 
yer gave  vent  to  an  audible  sigh.  His  sympathy 
was  bona  fide ;  a  fellowship  for  his  host  had  taken 
root  in  his  heart.  Parkins  had  become  most 
solemn  in  his  attitude,  his  face  denoting  a  real 
sympathy  for  the  older  men  who  were  striving 
for  knowledge  concerning  their  departed  loved 


36  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

ones.  A  guilty  feeling  of  disloyalty  caused  him 
to  wonder  if  his  plans  might  not  be  disclosed  to 
both  Villard  and  Sawyer  through  the  same  voice 
Drury  had  heard.  A  creepy  sensation  ran 
through  him  at  the  mere  thought  of  exposure. 
Notwithstanding  his  misgivings  he  believed  both 
men  were  suffering  under  a  delusion  born  of  a 
desire  to  hear  from  their  dead.  Of  the  two, 
Sawyer  was  the  more  nearly  sane.  This  was  his 
estimate  between  them,  but  Villard  seemed  the 
more  pliable. 

Parkins'  own  plans  were  far  too  important  to 
himself  to  spoil  with  overhaste,  therefore  he 
resolved  that  all  necessary  time  should  be  taken, 
might  it  be  a  day,  a  month,  or  a  year.  The  game 
was  worth  the  candle.  He  would  play  in  this 
one  according  to  the  opportunity  offered  by  each, 
patiently  awaiting  the  moment  when  he  might 
safely  spring  his  legal  trap  on  Drury  Villard. 

"I  have  often  tried  to  find  the  open  sesame  to 
the  spirit  world  but  perhaps  I  am  too  earthly  to 
succeed,"  volunteered  Parkins  after  a  lengthy 
pause.  "What  can  you  tell  me,  gentlemen,  that 
will  give  me  a  lead  toward  the  door  of  the 
unknown?" 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      37 

"I  know  nothing  whatever/'  averred  Dr.  Saw- 
yer, with  lips  tightened.  "Perhaps  Mr.  Villard 
may  have  something  to  offer." 

"Absolutely  nothing,  gentlemen.  I've  told  you 
of  my  experience  without  going  into  detail.  I 
do  not  claim  to  know  anything,  which  is  exactly 
the  attitude  of  those  great  thinkers,  Edison, 
Lodge,  and  Conan  Doyle.  Edison  is  said  to  be- 
lieve that  he  can  invent  an  apparatus  so  delicate 
that  it  may  record  communications  from  the  out- 
side. But  I  had  no  such  instrument.  I  simply 
heard  a  voice  that  I  knew,  and  I'd  give  every- 
thing I  have  in  the  world  to  hear  that  voice  again 
— there !  Did  you  hear  that?" 

Drury  Villard  looked  up,  and  around  about 
him.  Parkins'  face  grew  pale  but  he  avoided  the 
searching  eyes  of  his  host. 

"Winifred!"  shouted  Villard,  as  he  gazed  ab- 
stractedly about  the  great  dining  hall,  and  into 
the  eyes  of  his  guests.  But  he  did  not  see  them. 

On  hearing  the  name  Winifred,  Parkins'  eyes 
opened  wide,  as  he  searched  Villard's  face. 

"Yes — yes,  I  hear  you,"  continued  Villard — 
"yes,  dear  heart — go  on — you  say  to — what !  My 
God!  Can  it  be  true?"  Then,  glaring  at  Par- 


38  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

kins,  he  exclaimed : — "Yes,  it  is  true — I  can  see 
the  situation  clearly.  No! — it  shall  never  be!" 

Parkins  shuddered  with  apprehension,  as  Vil- 
lard's  jaws  snapped  together,  and  for  a  full  half 
minute  his  eyes  looked  down  upon  the  white 
damask  table  covering.  When  he  raised  them  he 
glanced  swiftly  at  his  host  and  then  turned  with 
an  apologetic  smile  toward  Sawyer. 

"I  have  an  acquaintance  by  the  name  of " 

the  sentence  remained  unfinished — Villard's  face 
flaming  with  anger. 

"I  know  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  ask  that  we 
change  the  subject,"  said  the  host  in  his  usual 
tone  of  voice,  and  without  a  tremor  of  excite- 
ment. "With  no  volition  of  my  own  I  have  un- 
dergone another  experience.  I  have  nothing  to 
say  on  the  subject  and  will  beg  that  no  questions 
be  asked  at  this  time.  Let  us  have  coffee  and 
cigars,  Jacques,"  said  he,  addressing  the  head 
servant,  at  the  same  time  eyeing  his  guests  in  an 
open,  cordial  way.  His  glance  at  Parkins  was 
searching,  but  the  latter  seemed  entirely  at  ease, 
and  in  full  sympathy. 

"Permit  me  to  say  that  I  intuitively  compre- 
hend all  that  has  occurred,"  said  Dr.  Sawyer  to 


WILLIAM  PARKINS  ARRIVES      39 

his  host.  He  then  turned  his  eyes  upon  Parkins, 
but  that  gentleman  avoided  the  gaze,  although 
from  no  real  understanding  of  its  significance. 

"You  heard  no  strange  voice,  Mr.  Parkins?" 
questioned  Sawyer. 

"Voice!  I  heard  Drury  talking  to  some  one, 
or  something,  invisible  to  nie.  I  heard  no  reply 
— seemed  to  me  as  though  lie  had  suddenly  gone 
crazy !" 

"Crazy — Yes!  Most  likely  you  would  think 
that !"  replied  Sawyer,  sternly.  "Sometimes  old 
friendships  dissolve  through  lack  of  sympathetic 
understanding." 

"But  I  don't  understand,  sir !"  replied  Parkins 
with  a  composure  well  feigned.  Glancing  hastily 
toward  Villard  he  asked  with  eyes  widely  opened 
— "What  has  happened?" 

Villard  gazed  back  at  him  soberly  before  re- 
plying. Then  finally  after  due  thought  he  said, 
somewhat  harshly — 

"We  will  talk  the  matter  over  at  another  time. 
By  the  way,  let  us  have  the  coffee  and  cigars 
outside,  gentlemen.  I  have  wonderful  outlook 
that  will  give  us  a  glimpse  of  the  rising  of  the 
moon,  now  due.  Its  glow  over  the  waters  of 
good  old  South  Bay  lends  wonderful  effects." 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  MESSAGE  FROM  WINIFRED 

FROM  a  nook  balcony  and  for  more  than  an 
hour  the  three  men  bathed  in  the  beauty  of  a 
gorgeous  moonlit  night.  Over  their  coffee  and 
cigars  they  drank  in  a  grandeur  of  gleam  and 
shadow  over  sea  and  land  with  little  in  the  way 
of  conversation  to  mar  the  serenity  of  a  perfect 
night.  Each  had  thoughts  personal  to  himself 
and  the  inclination  of  all  seemed  to  be  that  of 
introspection. 

Of  the  three,  Parkins  maintained  the  more 
silent  mood.  Had  he  been  incautious?  He  won- 
dered if  Villard  had  really  been  warned  against 
him  by  a  message  of  some  sort,  or  was  he  subject 
to  vagarious  meditations  by  reason  of  his  loneli- 
ness? As  for  himself,  he  was  far  too  practical 
to  admit  that  there  might  be  such  a  thing  as  real 
spiritual  communication.  At  any  rate,  there  was 
yet  a  preponderance  of  belief  to  the  contrary. 
He  knew  of  certain  persons  who  had  been  con- 

40 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  WINIFRED     41 

fined  in  sanitariums  for  asserting  queer  notions 
on  the  order  of  "pipe  dreams."  Thus  next 
friends  had,  by  order  of  court,  taken  them  in 
charge  and  put  them  where,  in  his  opinion,  they 
belonged.  If  friends  refused  to  act  the  law 
stepped  in  and  managed  the  case  in  behalf  of  the 
public  welfare. 

It  was  along  this  line  of  reasoning  that  Par- 
kins finally  made  up  his  mind  to  execute  his 
plans  at  all  hazards.  His  consuming  idea  of  be- 
coming tremendously  rich  depended  upon  his 
success  in  securing  control  of  a  majority  holding 
of  "Villard  Incorporated."  He  longed  for  wealth 
and  power,  to  gain  which  he  must  use  the  weap- 
ons best  fitted  to  the  task — diplomacy  first,  force 
if  called  for — and  he  would  lose  no  time! 

It  would  be  necessary  to  watch  Sawyer  care- 
fully— "a  very  canny  old  gentleman,  who  might 
cause  trouble,"  was  his  thought.  To  win  him 
would  require  a  diplomacy  of  the  highest  order. 
He  must  be  primed  with  the  right  sort  of  propa- 
ganda concerning  the  Villard  hallucination  and 
prove  it  to  Sawyer's  satisfaction — then  all  would 
go  well.  He  would  first  turn  them  into  "old 
cronies,"  as  it  were;  cause  them  to  strike  up  a 


42  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

most  intimate  acquaintance  wherein  the  strength 
of  Sawyer's  will  power  could  be  utilized  in  be- 
half of  the  Villard  weakness.  Indeed,  Sawyer 
must  be  so  convinced  of  Villard's  need  of  a  next 
friend,  wholly  disinterested,  except  for  his  men- 
tal welfare,  that  no  court  in  the  land  would  deny 
him  legal  guardianship.  Thenceforth  the  path 
would  be  clear  of  obstruction.  Having  formed 
in  outline  a  plan  of  action,  Parkins  broke  the 
silence  by  saying — 

"Never  have  I  seen  so  much  beauty  in  moon- 
light. It  is  almost  as  bright  as  day." 

"Glorious!"  responded  Sawyer,  after  several 
moments  of  hesitation. 

Enthralled  by  the  peacefulness  of  the  situa- 
tion he  had  not  cared  for  small  conversation. 
Villard,  evidently  buried  in  thought,  remained 
silent.  He  wondered  what  manner  of  girl  was 
the  Winifred  of  whom  Parkins  had  spoken,  but 
he  asked  no  questions.  He  also  wondered  as  to 
Parkins'  intentions  toward  her. 

"If  the  sunrise  over  the  Alps  is  half  as  grand 
as  the  sheen  on  the  waters  reflecting  this  moon, 
I  can  see  myself  buying  a  ticket  that  way  soon," 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  WINIFRED     43 

said  Parkins,  airily.  "Would  you  care  to  go 
along,  Drury?" 

The  question  went  unanswered  overlong,  so 
absorbed  was  Villard  with  his  own  thoughts. 
Reminded  of  the  fact  that  he  had  guests  to 
entertain  he  sat  up  quite  suddenly  and  gave 
attention  to  Parkins'  query. 

"All  that  is  in  the  background  with  me.  I've 
seen  every  part  of  it ;  been  everywhere  worth  go- 
ing. This  is  the  spot  where  my  dreams  will  come 
true.  Here  I  will  live — and  here  I  will  die." 

"Right,"  agreed  Sawyer.  "I  am  glad  you  have 
come  to  stay.  If  ever  a  man  needed  comrade- 
ship it  is  myself.  I  shall  haunt  you,  Mr.  Villard, 
and  your  beautiful  home,  unless  you  agree  to 
become  a  downright  good  neighbor  who  will 
swap  visits  often." 

"I  shall  esteem  it  a  high  privilege  to  visit  you, 
often,"  replied  Villard.  "You  must  come  over 
the  hedge  every  time  you  have  the  courage  to 
choose  a  poor  companion.  Of  late  I  have  been 
so  much  alone  that  I  need  a  course  of  training 
in  order  to  become  sociable.  I'm  willing  to  make 
a  great  try  of  it  and  will  hope  for  success.  You 
have  seen  me  at  my  weakest  to-night — perhaps 


44 

you  may  never  catch  me  again  in  the  same  mood, 
Dr.  Sawyer.  But  I  know  you  are  a  man  of  deep 
sympathies  and  that  we  shall  be  good  neighbors.'' 

"That,  we  must  be,"  replied  Sawyer  fervently, 
"and  now  I  shall  be  going  for  I  am  old  enough 
in  years  to  practice  regularity.  It  is  my  bed- 
time— a  little  past  the  accustomed  hour,  so  I  will 
shake  hands  and  be  gone !  We  must  get  together 
soon  again." 

Then  turning  toward  his  fellow  guest  he  bowed 
stiffly,  but  made  no  offer  of  his  hand  in  parting. 

"An  ill  omen,"  thought  Parkins,  as  he  threw 
himself  into  bed  an  hour  later.  "Things  were 
not  working  just  right,"  he  admitted  to  himself, 
but  that  his  goal  should  be  reached  in  due  time, 
he  promised  himself.  "The  pyramids  were  not 
built  over  night" — were  his  last  muttered  words 
before  the  cool  air  crept  in  from  the  Sound  and 
sent  him  into  a  restless  sleep. 

Out  on  a  window  balcony  Drury  Villard,  thor- 
oughly awake,  and  protected  from  the  cold  by  a 
heavy  steamer  blanket,  sat  motionless,  with  eyes 
wide  open  and  mind  obsessed  with  the  incidents 
of  the  evening.  Of  the  Parkins  episode  he  very 
much  desired  to  rid  his  mind,  for,  after  all,  he 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  WINIFRED     45 

most  likely  stumbled  into  an  awkward  position 
by  reason  of  bis  too  practical  nature.  On  think- 
ing over  tbe  past  he  could  not  help  but  give  him 
credit  for  having  earned  his  promotion  to  ac- 
tively head  the  Villard  Company.  He  had  known 
him  as  a  boy — and  he  was  now  the  active  head 
of  Villard  Incorporated — an  expert  financial 
man.  All  through  their  years  together  he  had 
been  loyal,  good  natured,  and  successful  in  the 
big  part  he  had  undertaken.  No  higher  compli- 
ment could  have  been  paid  him  than  that  Vil- 
lard's  mantle  of  authority  should  fall  upon  his 
shoulders.  In  the  light  of  events  the  question 
was  whether  or  not  Parkins  would  be  capable  of 
standing  up  under  prosperity  and  great  future 
prospects.  Had  an  exalted  ego  taken  possession 
of  his  once  cool,  analytical  mind?  Was  he  now 
loyal  to  all  hands  in  the  organization,  and  to 
Villard  himself?  Or  had  he  turned  traitor 
through  anxiety  to  become  the  master  of  a  great 
fortune? 

After  much  weighing  of  the  situation  Villard 
decided  that  the  matter  warranted  certain  tests 
continued  over  a  goodly  period  of  time.  He  held 
in  reserve  a  wholesome  pity  for  the  man  who  so 


46  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

lightly  esteemed  the  golden  opinion  that  he  had 
honestly  won,  and  he  pledged  himself  toward 
leading  him  back  to  his  normal  self.  With  that 
in  mind  as  a  policy  to  be  pursued,  he  rang  for 
light  inside  and  wandered  his  way  to  bed. 

When  Drury  Villard  had  laid  his  head  upon 
his  pillow  all  forebodings  passed  awray,  leaving 
him  at  peace  in  mind  and  body.  There  was  no 
weariness  because  of  Ids  duties  as  a  host.  He 
owed  himself  a  good  night's  rest  and  with  every 
intention  to  obey  the  call  he  shut  his  eyes  and 
calmed  his  brain.  Almost  at  the  point  of  com- 
plete repose  a  vague  and  dreamy  impression  that 
some  one  was  calling  from  far  away  came  into 
his  mind.  He  seemed  to  hear  his  name,  and  whis- 
pered so  softly  as  to  be  almost  inaudible.  Ap- 
parently it  was  the  voice  of  Winifred,  and  the 
very  stillness  of  the  night  seemed  boisterous  by 
comparison.  Her  nearness  had  the  effect  of 
tingling  the  blood  in  his  veins  as  she  breathed 
his  name — and  then,  with  the  softness  of  a  leaf 
falling  upon  the  grass  beneath  a  low  hung  bough, 
the  voice  continued — 

"All  that  is  good  is  saved — the  dross  goes  back 
to  earth  to  enrich  the  soil — but  the  soul  is  di- 


A  MESSAGE  FROM  WINIFRED     47 

vine !  It  never  dies !  Its  homeward  flight  is  na- 
ture's plan  of  purification — but  once  returned  it 
rests,  and  awaits  the  call  to  go  forth  and  serve 
a  new-born  babe  of  corresponding  mould.  Thus 
is  inclined  the  congenital  tendency  of  the  human 
strain  when  mixed,  and  provides  a  natural  devia- 
tion by  which  no  two  human  beings  are  exactly 
alike.  All  nature  adheres  to  the  selfsame  prin- 
ciple." 

"And  we  both  shall  live  again,  my  Winifred?" 
breathed  Villard. 

"We  shall,  but  worlds  there  are  without  num- 
ber, and  the  same  universe  holds  all.  What  shall 
be  my  further  progress  I  do  not  know.  Enough 
to  say  of  The  Great  Beyond  that  it  offers  rest 
and  requitement  to  all  souls  released  from  the 
ills  and  sorrows  of  earthly  habitation.  Farewell, 
my  Drury ;  another  Winifred  will  come  into  your 
life  ere  long.  I  shall  strive  to  hover  near  when 
you  need  me  most.  Meanwhile  watch  thy  way 
and  beware  of  the  pitfalls  that  will  beset  thy 
path." 

Now,  suddenly,  Villard  raised  himself  to  sit- 
ting posture.  So  intent  had  been  his  mind  upon 
the  whispered  words  of  his  loved  one  that  her 


48  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

spirit  had  gone  its  way  before  he  could  command 
his  voice  to  speak.  As  in  a  dream  he  buried  his 
face  upon  his  pillow,  thereby  to  control  his  pent 
up  emotions,  and  also  to  recount  and  memorize 
the  exact  words  that  she  had  spoken.  This  ac- 
complished, he  sighed  deeply  and  lapsed  into 
slumber.  Later  on  he  became  restless  and  was 
startled  into  partial  wakefulness.  The  one  word 
'•"beware?' — was  faintly  whispered,  but  drowsi- 
ness overcame  his  effort  to  understand  although 
he  rolled  and  tossed  from  side  to  side. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE 

DRUEY  VILLARD  was  not  the  only  one  at 
"Dreamy  Hollow/'  who  failed  to  enjoy  a  full 
night  of  repose.  There  wras  William  Parkins, 
guest,  and  erstwhile  trusted  friend,  whose  brain 
teemed  with  plans  by  which  he  might  get  control 
of  the  Villard  estate.  A  score  of  times  he  turned 
over  in  bed  to  escape  the  penalty  of  a  sleepless 
night.  Somewhere  among  the  small  hours  ap- 
proaching the  light  of  a  new  day  he  succumbed 
to  fatigue  and  had  fallen  into  a  weary  doze.  His 
last  thought  on  going  to  sleep  was  the  urgency 
of  quick  action  if  his  plans  were  to  succeed. 
His  advantage  lay  in  the  present  mental  state  of 
Drury  Villard,  whose  mind,  he  was  convinced, 
must  border  upon  the  edge  of  insanity.  Hence 
the  need  of  restraint,  and  no  sane  judge  would 
dare  deny  a  writ  of  sequester  to  a  next  friend 
pending  a  period  of  isolation  while  awaiting  the 
final  decree  of  the  Court.  Villard's  great  fortune 

49 


50  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

should  not  be  allowed  to  "dangle"  in  plain  sight 
of  "jack-leg  lawyers,"  while  he,  Parkins,  awaited 
final  results  of  the  proceedings. 

During  the  hours  lie  had  given  himself  over 
to  thoughts  concerning  the  Villard  matter  Par- 
kins' mind  had  been  cold  toward  any  conscien- 
tious scruple.  In  his  judgment  Villard's  foolish 
notion  that  lie  could  communicate  with  the  soul 
of  a  dead  sweetheart  was  as  good  as  a  free  ticket 
to  a  sanitarium.  Any  judge  would  have  to  ad- 
mit that.  Nothing  less  than  providential  inter- 
ference could  defeat  the  plan.  The  first  thing  to 
be  done  was  to  select  a  lawyer  of  reputation  and 
prestige.  Until  that  was  decided,  no  important 
step  could  be  taken,  except  to  find  out  how  Saw- 
yer would  regard  the  situation.  If  he  balked, 
naturally  complication  would  ensue,  but  the  law- 
yer Parkins  had  in  mind  would  brook  nothing 
in  the  way  of  nonsense.  He  could,  if  desirable, 
put  Villard  in  an  asylum.  As  for  Sawyer,  he 
would  be  given  to  understand  that  any  interfer- 
ence from  him  wrould  result  in  an  investigation 
of  his  own  peculiar  views,  he  having  practically 
coincided  with  Villard's  belief  that  the  latter 
had  heard  the  voice  of  his  dead  love. 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE        51 

Dr.  Sawyer  had  intimated  plainly  that  he,  too, 
had  heard  that  voice  and  understood  the  warn- 
ing words  about  outside  influences.  He  won- 
dered if  Jacques,  the  servant  who  served  the 
dinner,  had  witnessed  Villard's  excitement  and 
understood  the  cause  of  it.  He  decided  to  find 
out  about  that  matter  on  the  following  day. 
Meanwhile  he  would  take  one  more  pill — then  he 
would  rest — "sleep" — he  muttered.  "I  must  be 
ready  for  'big  game'  hunting  to-morrow.-' 

With  this  determination  he  closed  his  eyes 
and  fell  into  a  nervous  slumber.  But  an  hour 
later  Parkins  found  himself  sitting  upright  in 
bed  and  screaming  with  fear  at  the  top  of  his 
voice.  Several  servants  and  a  night  watchman 
soon  surrounded  him,  the  watchman  holding  an 
electric  torch  with  which  he  flashed  a  flood  of 
light  into  the  face  of  the  guest.  Santzi,  the  Japa- 
nese attendant,  and  personal  servant  to  Drury 
Villard,  had  awakened  his  employer,  and  to- 
gether they  rushed  to  the  chamber  occupied  by 
the  guest.  The  latter,  wild-eyed  and  disheveled, 
stared  at  his  host  and  moaned.  Then  wildly,  he 
shouted — 

"It  was  you  who  planted  a  spook  in  this  ehani- 


52 

ber!  You  have  tried  to  frighten  ine  into  your 
insane  belief,  but  you've  missed  your  guess! 
You'll  pay  for  this — you'll " 

"There  now,  William,"  soothed  Villard — "calm 
yourself,  my  boy.  Your  digestion  is  off — you've 
had  a  bad  dream!  Don't  give  way  to  such  un- 
worthy thoughts.  Don't  you  see  that  everything 
is  all  right?" 

"A  put  up  job — that's  what  I  see!  Neither 
you  nor  any  one  else  in  this  world  can  make  a 
fool  out  of  me!  It's  you  that  is  crazy — not  I. 
It's  you  that  pretends  to  talk  with  dead  people! 
In  fact,  it  was  you  who  put  up  this  scheme  to 
scare  me.  You  wanted  to  win  me  over  into  a 
looney  state  of  mind  like  yourself,  but  it  didn't 
work !  Now,  sir,  I'm  done  with  you !" 

Parkins'  eyes  blazed  with  a  mad  light  in  each 
and  his  breath  smelled  of  drugs.  In  his  rage  he 
had  thwarted  his  own  plans  and  now"  compre- 
hended to  the  full  extent  the  mess  he  had  made 
of  them.  He  demanded  privacy  from  the  serv- 
ants that  he  might  clothe  himself  and  be  ready 
to  take  his  leave  by  first  conveyance.  He  also 
demanded  that  Villard  remain  with  him  for  a 
conference,  which  was  granted.  Once  the  door 


53 

was  shut  against  all  witnesses,  Parkins  sat  upon 
the  edge  of  the  bed  and  cried  like  a  child. 

"There  is  nothing  I  can  say  to  remove  the  pre- 
judice I  must  have  aroused  within  you,  Drury. 
Of  course  you  will  acquit  me  of  bad  intentions. 
It  must  have  been  a  nightmare,"  he  whimpered. 

The  bravado  had  entirely  gone  out  of  the  Par- 
kins' voice.  Several  moments  elapsed  as  Villard 
eyed  him  carefully. 

"Just  what  did  you  see,  William?  Tell  me 
exactly  what  caused  your  fright." 

Villard's  words  were  measured.  They  lacked 
warmth,  a  fact  that  Parkins  could  not  have  failed 
to  take  into  account. 

"Some  one  stood  by  my  bedside — a  woman's 
form — not  in  the  flesh *' 


"Yes — go  on!" 


"It  stood  there,  motionless,  and  the  room  be- 
came as  cold  as  ice.  I  tried  to  shout  but  my 
voice  refused  to  respond.  All  I  could  do  was  to 
gasp  for  breath !" 

"How  long  did  the  apparition  remain  in 
view?"  demanded  Villard,  his  eyes  gleaming  his 
disgust  toward  Parkins. 

"A  half  minute  or  a  minute — seemed  like  an 


54  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

hour !"  he  replied,  his  teeth  chattering  from  sheer 
fright. 

"Did  the  Spirit  talk — say  anything  at  all?" 

"Not  a  word — just  held  up  a  hand  as  if  warn- 
ing me  of  something " 

"Ah!  there  I  have  it,"  broke  in  Villard.  "You 
were  warned  that  your  plans  were  known  to  me. 
And  that  is  true.  You  have  lost  your  soul, 
William,  and  were  you  to  die  without  repent- 
ance, it  would  roam  through  the  ages,  lost  to  all 
chance  of  redemption." 

"But  I  don't  owe  repentance  to  any  dam'd 
spook !  I " 

"Enough  of  that,  sir!"  snapped  Villard  wrath- 
fully.  "I'll  have  no  nonsense  of  that  sort !  An- 
other insult  and  your  baggage  will  await  you  at 
the  carriage  entrance." 

"But,  Drury " 

"Hereafter  you  will  address  me  as  Mister  Vil- 
lard. Our  intimacy  is  at  an  end!"  warned  the 
Master  of  Dreamy  Hollow. 

His  eyes  blazed  as  he  glared  at  the  man  on 
whom  he  had  showered  his  trust  and  esteem. 

"To-morrow  morning  you  will  return  to  New 
York.  By  the  time  you  reach  there  I  shall  have 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE        55 

made  up  my  mind  as  to  your  future  usefulness 
to  the  company." 

Having  delivered  this  ultimatum  Villard  on 
second  thought  punched  the  button  for  Jerry,  a 
colored  servant,  long  in  his  employ.  He  re- 
sponded at  once. 

"Send  Santzi  to  me,"  said  he, — "and  return 
with  him.  I  have  duties  for  both  of  you.  Also 
arouse  the  housekeeper  and  tell  her  to  provide 
tea  and  toast  immediately  for  a  departing  guest." 

When  Santzi,  the  Japanese  body-servant  to 
Drury  Villard,  presented  himself  a  few  moments 
later  he  was  told  to  order  out  the  limousine  and 
prepare  to  accompany  Mr.  Parkins  to  New  York. 

"It  is  urgent  that  the  trip  be  made  as  quickly 
as  possible — but  safely,"  said  Villard,  and  as 
Santzi  started  to  obey,  the  master  walked  along 
beside  him  until  both  were  out  of  hearing  of  the 
Parkins  suite. 

"I  want  you  to  sit  inside  facing  this  man.  He 
is  not  well,  and  should  get  back  into  a  milder 
temperature.  If  he  tries  to  get  out  of  the  car  just 
see  that  he  doesn't.  His  mind  is  rather  upset, 
because  of  his  illness.  Jerry  knows  where  he 


56  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

lives  and  will  drive  him  straight  to  his  door  by 
early  morning." 

"Fll  attend,  sir,"  replied  Santzi. 

"Then  come  back  home,  and  get  some  sleep — 
but  don't  shut  your  eyes  while  Mr.  Parkins  is  in 
your  care !" 

"I  not  sleep,  'ntil  start  back.  Must  I  use  jiu- 
jitsu?" 

"If  necessary — but  be  safe.  Do  him  no  real 
harm.  See  that  he  harms  neither  you  nor  him- 
self—that's all." 

As  Parkins,  in  sulky  mood,  came  out  of  his 
comfortable  quarters  into  the  great  hall  leading 
to  the  porte  cochere,  Villard  walked  along  beside 
him,  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  Following 
came  several  servants,  Santzi  in  advance,  Jerry, 
Jacques,  and  Mrs.  Bond,  the  housekeeper,  who 
carried  a  hamper  filled  with  food.  Parkins  had 
refused  to  partake  of  anything  to  eat  before 
leaving  and  as  he  stepped  inside  the  car  the  top 
light  illumined  his  ashen  face.  He  took  the  hand- 
shake offered  by  his  host  who  smiled  reassur- 
ingly and  wished  him  safe  journey. 

"You'll  be  down  again,  soon,  I  hope,"  said 
Villard,  his  voice  kindly.  "These  cold  nights  get 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE        57 

on  one's  nerves  until  one  becomes  used  to  them. 
Call  me  up  soon,  I'll  be  glad  to  know  that  you 
have  recovered.  Don't  try  to  report  at  the  office 
to-morrow.  I  will  phone  up  that  you  are  not 
well,  but  will  be  in  a  few  days — meanwhile  I'll 
look  in  on  you  at  your  home.  I'll  let  you  know 
when.  Keep  your  mind  clear,  and  don't  worry." 

Perkins'  last  peep  into  Drury  Villard's  eyes 
brought  each  mind  into  full  understanding. 
Parkins  knew  that  he  must  not  go  near  the  gen- 
eral offices  of  the  Villard  Corporation  without 
invitation  from  Villard  himself.  Looking  the 
situation  squarely  in  the  teeth  he  cursed  the 
drugs  that  had  crazed  him,  and  at  once  resolved 
to  carry  out  orders.  His  future  depended  upon 
his  acceptance  of  the  suggestions  offered,  which, 
in  fact,  were  orders.  So  tense  were  his  nerves 
at  the  moment  he  could  have  cried  out  against 
his  absurd  folly,  but  the  placid  face  of  Santzi 
appeared  as  a  full  moon  with  eyes  ever  alert. 
The  best  thing  to  do  was  to  draw  the  robe  about 
him  and  snuggle  down  to  sleep. 

The  next  he  knew  the  big  limousine  had  halted 
before  the  entrance  of  the  huge  apartment  build- 
ing in  Park  Avenue.  There  he  maintained  a  suite 


58  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

of  rooms  richly  furnished  and  thoroughly 
equipped  for  the  kind  of  life  he  led.  Having 
slept  all  of  the  way  home  he  had  fairly  recovered 
from  his  delirium  of  the  night,  and  after  gulp- 
ing down  a  full  portion  of  "whiskey  sour,"  he 
aroused  his  man-servant  and  ordered  his 
breakfast. 

Then,  methodically,  he  began  to  repack  his 
suit  case,  a  very  large  affair  with  double  hand- 
grips, capable  of  holding  enough  clothing  for  a 
trip  to  London.  But  such  a  journey  was  farthest 
from  his  thoughts.  Patchogue  was  his  destina- 
tion, and  the  object  of  his  haste  was  "the  pret- 
tiest little  country  girl  on  Long  Island !"  He  had 
promised  her  a  trip  to  the  great  city,  and  her 
father  was  to  accompany  her — "and  that  makes 
everything  all  right,"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  holding 
up  a  kodak  picture  of  a  beautiful  young  woman, 
plain  of  dress  but  graceful  of  form,  and  a  face 
of  idyllic  charm. 

"Poor  little  motherless  child,"  said  he,  softly 
— "and  what  a  devilish  cur  I  am  growing  into !" 
he  growled  warningly  at  his  weakness. 

Shaking  his  head  soberly  as  if  steadying  him- 
self against  a  great  folly,  his  eye  again  caught 


A  SUDDEN  DEPARTURE        59 

sight  of  the  big  black  bottle  on  the  sideboard  and 
he  rushed  toward  it  and  grasped  it  with  trem- 
bling hands.  This  time  he  took  several  great 
swallows,  then  rushed  to  the  kitchenette  for 
water  which  he  gulped  down  his  throat  until  its 
parched  surface  had  been  appeased. 

"Poor  little  country  maid,"  he  mumbled  after 
recovering  from  a  spell  of  hiccoughs  which  sud- 
denly  seized  him.  "I'll  send  her  old  man  on  a 
bus  ride  while  I  show  her  a  good  time  along  the 
great  white  way — and  then  to  Zim's  place !  Poor 
little  motherless  girl — never  has  been  to  the  big 
town  in  all  her  life — and  lives  only  fifty  miles 
away!  The  old  man  can  drift  for  himself,  after 
his  bus  ride.  Ye  Gods !  Long  Island  holds  thou- 
sands of  them  who  never  have  seen  HI'  oP  n'york 
— hie!  Poor  HP  country  baby — I  love  her — no 
use  to  marry,  she  hasn't  any  money.  Love  gets 
cold  when  you  run  out  o'  gold — sounds  like  a 
song-hie !" 

Parkins  now  stripped  himself  for  a  bath  and 
was  soon  out  of  the  tub  and  under  the  shower. 
All  this  had  a  sobering  effect  upon  him,  and  by 
the  time  he  had  shaved  and  dressed  he  looked 
the  part  of  a  well  groomed  gentleman.  His  eyes 


60 

caught  glimpses  of  the  big  black  bottle  now  and 
then,  but  he  stood  firm,  and  turned  his  back  upon 
it.  Once  he  waved  his  hand  toward  it  and 
hoarsely  whispered — "never  again!" 

Then  suddenly,  he  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed  immoderately. 

"Never  again — hell !"  said  he,  "I'll  drink  when 
I  want  to !  Whiskey  hasn't  anything  on  me !  I 
can  take  it  or  leave  it  alone,"  saying  which,  he 
stepped  over  to  where  the  bottle  stood  and  took 
several  swallows  just  to  prove  his  assertion. 
Then,  calling  to  his  servant,  he  ordered  two  full 
quarts  placed  in  his  suit  case,  and  to  phone 
McGonigle's  garage  for  his  four  seated  roadster. 

A  half  hour  later  he  was  steering  his  car  amid 
the  traffic  of  the  Williamsburg  bridge  on  his  way 
to  a  little  house  in  the  heart  of  Patchogue,  the 
home  of  Alexander  Barbour,  and  his  daughter 
— Winifred. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY 

As  far  back  as  he  could  remember,  Alexander 
Barbour  had  fished  for  the  New  York  Market  in 
the  waters  of  Great  South  Bay — likewise  his 
father  and  grandfather  before  him.  A  vast  area 
of  fishing  ground  stood  just  off  Patchogue,  then 
a  tiny  village,  near  which  flounders  were  seined 
in  enormous  quantities.  They  were  nearest  in 
flavor  and  delicacy  to  the  famous  sole  of  Eng- 
lish waters,  and  the  great  restaurants  and  ho- 
tels of  the  day  vied  with  each  other  in  devising 
new  ways  to  serve  them. 

Alexander  Barbour,  with  all  of  the  vim  and 
courage  of  youth,  took  the  business  when  his 
father  died  and  forthwith  married  the  girl  of  his 
choice,  whose  personality  and  charm  made  of 
him  a  fond  and  loving  husband.  His  greatest 
hope  was  that  she  might  bear  him  a  male  child, 
that  the  line  of  succession  in  the  Barbour  family 

should  go  on  through  another  generation.    Un- 

01 


62  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

happily  for  him  the  first  born  was  a  girl,  and 
before  a  week  had  rolled  around  the  mother  died 
— and  Barbour,  the  fisherman,  drooped  into  a 
physical  and  mental  decline. 

Only  a  winsome  baby  girl  was  left  to  cheer 
his  lonely  heart.  He  strove  hard  to  conceal  his 
disappointment  but  the  habit  of  brooding  in- 
creased, for  he  had  prayed  for  a  son,  but  alas, 
his  prayers  had  been  denied. 

Before  her  death  Mrs.  Barbour  gave  to  her 
babe  the  name  of  Winifred,  and,  as  the  end  drew 
near,  a  village  parson  performed  a  christening 
service  in  the  presence  of  weeping  neighbors  who 
pledged  loyalty  to  the  mother's  memory,  and  t(? 
the  welfare  of  her  little  one,  thus  comforting  the 
dying  woman  as  she  passed  on  to  another  world. 
From  the  shock  of  it  all  Alexander  Barbour 
shrank  into  a  pitiful  state,  having  failed  in  his 
attempts  at  reinstating  his  prestige.  Finally 
competitors  controlling  great  storage  warehouses 
and  banking  facilities  drove  him  practically  out 
of  the  field.  The  interest  on  his  savings  did  not 
suffice  to  live  upon  the  liberal  basis  of  past  years, 
and  as  Patchogue  grew  in  population  the  name 
of  Barbour  receded  from  public  concern. 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     63 

As  a  babe  in  arms  little  Winifred  cooed  her 
way,  laughed  as  a  child,  and  as  a  school  girl 
finally  sang  herself  into  her  father's  good  graces. 
At  ten  years  of  age  she  had  mastered  the  art  of 
housekeeping,  and  with  a  wisdom  far  beyond  her 
years,  encouraged  her  father,  as  best  she  could, 
to  keep  up  his  spirits  and  not  give  way  to  despair. 

"I  know  where  you  can  gather  some  wild 
cherries,"  she  volunteered  to  him  one  day ;  "they 
are  just  thick  along  the  inlet,  and  everybody  is 
out  picking  them  for  the  market.  They  bring  a 
good  price  in  Patchogue." 

By  the  time  Winifred  reached  her  fifteenth 
birthday  she  had  graduated  from  high  school, 
and  in  addition  to  that  had  "kept  the  home  fires 
burning"  with  a  knowledge  that  surprised  her 
friends.  But  all  through  those  years  under  the 
home  roof  she  had  maintained  the  practice  of 
conversing  with  her  dead  mother.  This  she  be- 
gan in  her  eighth  year,  as  a  child  would  talk  with 
its  doll  and  answer  back  as  its  mother.  The 
habit  had  continued  through  girlhood  into  young 
womanhood,  minus  the  doll,  but  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  she  made  the  startling  claim  to  her 
father  that  she  could  converse  with  her  dead 


64  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

mother  at  will.  While  humoring  her  belief,  he 
nevertheless  was  skeptical,  and  shook  his  head 
indicating  his  doubt. 

"But  there  are  certain  hours  of  the  night, 
when  the  great  stillness  comes  on,  that  I  can  hear 
her  voice  just  as  plainly  as  I  can  hear  yours 
now,"  said  she,  quite  convincingly.  "Why,  I 
talked  with  mamma  last  night!"  she  declared 
with  girlish  vehemence. 

"What  did  she  say,  Winifred?" 

Mr.  Barbour  allowed  himself  to  appear  some- 
what convinced  by  her  statement.  It  would  do 
her  no  real  harm,  and  she  would  outgrow  the 
vagary  of  such  dreams  as  she  grew  older,  accord- 
ing to  his  belief.  Then,  too,  thoughts  about  her 
mother  were  for  the  good  of  the  girl — an  influ- 
ence that  should  be  encouraged. 

"She  told  me  to  study  hard  and  become  a 
teacher — and " 

"Yes,  dear — and,  what?" 

"Well,  I've  been  thinking  how  to  tell  you — the 
last  message  was  about  you,"  said  "she,  smiling 
up  into  her  father's  eyes. 

"Are  you  at  liberty  to  tell  me?"  he  asked, 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     65 

bracing  himself  against  the  choking  grief  which 
suddenly  seized  him. 

"Yes,  indeed — but  you  mustn't  mind  her  so- 
licitude for  your  future.  She  thinks  you  are 
aging  too  rapidly  and  that  you  must  find  a  way 
out  of  your  sorrow.  She  asked  me  to  give  you 
more  companionship,  and  to  lead  you  into  a 
firm  belief  of  the  hereafter.  Your  lack  of  sin- 
cere belief  leaves  a  gap  in  the  way  of  your  com- 
municating directly  with  her." 

All  this  was  said  in  a  voice  of  sweet  modula- 
tion and  assuredness,  a  smile  lighting  up  her 
face  as  she  spoke.  There  was  no  question  of 
her  absolute  convictions. 

"What  would  you  suggest,  Winifred?"  replied 
her  father,  his  voice  broken,  and  his  eyes  filmed 
with  tears. 

"I  don't  know,  but  mother  thinks  the  waters 
of  South  Bay  hold  the  solution.  What  could  she 
mean  by  that?" 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  think.  Did  she  sug- 
gest any  particular  reason  for  that  answer?" 

"Oh,  yes — she  said  that  they  would  bring  you 
back  to  the  land  in  time.  I  am  glad  I  didn't 
forget  that,"  said  Winifred,  jubilantly.  "Let  us 


66  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

think  it  out  some  way.  Perhaps  she  meant  that 
you  should  keep  on  fishing  and  sell  your  catch 
to  the  market  men.  Afterwards  buy  a  farm  with 
your  earnings." 

In  the  conversation  that  followed  Winifred 
took  no  small  part  in  calculating  a  plausible  solu- 
tion to  her  dead  mother's  advice.  The  waters  of 
Great  South  Bay  at  once  suggested  fish,  oysters 
— wild  ducks  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  and  in  the 
early  spring.  These  would  sell  to  local  buyers 
for  ready  cash.  But  what  of  the  land?  They 
had  none!  In  her  own  heart  she  knew  that  her 
mother  had  meant  to  arouse  her  father  into  phys- 
ical activity. 

"Couldn't  we  rent  some  ground?"  suggested 
Winifred — "and  send  our  produce  to  market  by 
boat  from  Patchogue?  Other  people  do." 

"Indeed  we  could,  my  dear  child,"  exclaimed 
Alexander  Barbour,  straightening  his  shoulders. 
"We  will  do  that  very  thing,  with  the  city  of 
New  York  to  back  us  in  our  enterprise.  We  can 
sell  all  we  raise,  surely,  for  there  is  no  vegetable 
trust  to  squeeze  us  out  of  business,  as  there  is 
in  fish  and  oysters." 

"And  when  I  begin  teaching  school  we  will 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     67 

put  by  earnings  away,  too,"  echoed  Winifred — 
"and,  oh,  won't  mother  be  glad  when  I  tell  her 
of  our  plans?" 

With  that  enthusiastic  speech  she  jumped 
from  her  chair  and  wound  her  arms  about  her 
father's  neck.  The  kisses  she  showered  upon  him 
electrified  him,  and  from  that  moment  his  resolve 
to  succeed  never  waned. 

And  all  went  well  with  the  Barbours,  father 
and  daughter  clinging  to  each  other,  avoiding 
all  tendencies  toward  extravagance,  so  that  with- 
in the  space  of  a  few  months  they  found  them- 
selves in  more  comfortable  circumstances. 
Throughout  the  next  two  years  "messages  from 
mother"  inspired  them  and  cheered  their  way, 
and  all  of  a  sudden  the  village  of  Patchogue  be- 
gan to  grow  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Substantial 
hotels  sprang  up,  subdivisions  were  platted,  cot- 
tages and  villas  builded  up  on  every  side.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  "the  boom"  the  Barbours 
bought  lots  and  sold  them  at  a  profit,  and  Bar- 
bour  himself  built  a  refreshment  booth  on  the 
motor  parkway  near  the  beach,  and  Winifred 
helped  in  its  management.  No  longer  could  she 
devote  her  time  to  household  duties,  for  sales  at 


68  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

the  booth  dropped  off  when  she  was  away,  where- 
upon a  housekeeper  was  selected  and  put  in 
charge  of  the  home.  Winifred's  bright  face  and 
unfailing  humor  had  worked  wonders  financially. 
People  came  back  to  the  stand  from  time  to  time, 
mostly  automobilists,  who  always  seemed  to 
know  where  the  best  could  be  had,  and — never 
mind  the  price!  One  of  Winifred's  most  per- 
sistent and  profitable  customers,  Mr.  William 
Parkins  of  New  York,  had  expressed  the  same 
thought  in  another  way. 

"We  want  what  we  want  and  we  get  it,"  said 
he,  with  a  jolly  laugh,  at  the  young  girl  in  charge. 
"Better  look  out,  little  sister,  or  some  one  will 
come  along  and  steal  you!" — and  that  was  the 
first  effrontery  Winifred  had  ever  experienced. 

Abashed  she  turned  her  attention  to  other  cus- 
tomers, but  the  heightened  color  in  her  cheeks 
showed  her  indignation.  Nevertheless  Parkins 
stood  around,  picking  out  this  box  of  candy,  and 
that  bag  of  salted  almonds,  to  say  nothing  of 
homemade  pies  and  cakes,  each  to  be  wrapped 
separately,  thus  to  gain  her  attention  as  many 
times  as  possible. 

"I  need  these  out  at  my  fishing  hut  over  on 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     69 

the  ocean  side,"  said  lie  smiling  into  her  eyes,  but 
they  were  cold.  "Don't  be  angry,"  he  pleaded. 
"I  had  no  intention  of  being  rude — I  apologize 
most  sincerely." 

Parkins'  voice  was  so  kindly  and  his  smile  so 
winning  that  Winifred's  face  relaxed  into  its 
natural  sweetness  of  expression.  But  she  said 
nothing  and  found  things  to  do  which  kept  her 
busy.  Parkins,  gay  New  Yorker,  with  money 
galore,  was  not  of  the  kind  who  accepted  defeat. 
Here  was  a  dainty  little  maid  and  he  wanted  to 
know  her. 

"I'll  stay  here  until  you  tell  me  I'm  forgiven," 
he  persisted.  "Why,  little  woman,  I  am  the  last 
man  on  earth  to  suspect  of  willful  rudeness.  I'd 
rather  jump  in  the  bay,  and  say  to  myself  'here 
goes  nothing,'  than  to  offend  you.  Honor  bright ! 
Now  do  please  say  it's  all  settled,  so  I  won't 
go  away  feeling  ashamed  of  myself." 

Unused  to  familiarity  from  strangers  Wini- 
fred remained  silent  for  a  time  in  order  to  think 
out  the  best  plan  to  pursue.  She  wished  her 
father  had  been  there,  then  the  incident  would 
not  have  occurred.  But  he  was  absent — there- 
fore the  necessity  of  taking  care  of  herself. 


70  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"No  further  apology  is  necessary,  sir,"  she 
found  herself  saying.  "I  presume  you  live  in 
New  York;  and  your  ways  are  different  from  our 
ways.  Our  men  folk  are  always  respectful  to 
women,  and  we  very  naturally  cling  to  the 
amenities  even  though  we  are  country  folk." 

"Of  course  you  do!"  exclaimed  Parkins,  "and 
that  is  the  right  course,  always — but  this  is  the 
holiday  end  of  a  busy  week  of  hard  grind,  and 
my  outing  has  been  so  delightful  I  just  feel 
friendly  to  everybody.  Do  you  live  here?" 

"I  was  born  here,  and  have  always  lived  here. 
For  three  generations  my  people  have  been  set- 
tled in  this  locality,"  she  concluded,  as  customers 
were  crowding  her  stand ;  but  when  the  rush  was 
over  she  found,  to  her  surprise,  that  the  man  she 
had  upbraided  still  remained. 

"I  have  been  coming  to  Patchogue  for  several 
years  but  I  never  saw  you  until  to-day.  I  thought 
you  might  be  one  of  the  new  crowd.  The  place  is 
having  a  sort  of  boom  period,  lots  of  new  home 
builders,  and  all  that.  Hard  work,  standing  up 
all  day,  isn't  it?"  he  suggested,  with  a  little  touch 
of  sympathy  in  his  voice. 

"Not  very,  sir — my  father  relieves  me  several 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     71 

times  during  each  day,  and  if  there  is  anything 
going  on  at  night,  he  attends  to  the  stand." 

"Good  money  in  this  business  while  the  season 
is  on,  I  imagine,"  persisted  Parkins,  by  way  of 
keeping  the  conversation  going.  "Strange  I  have 
never  seen  you  until  to-day,"  he  reiterated. 

"We  are  new  in  this  business.  Heretofore  our 
family  has  been  in  the  fishing  industry.  And 
latterly,  truck  farming  also.  We  still  ship  some 
vegetables  to  New  York  by  boat,  and  sometimes 
by  express.  But  we  are  practically  out  of  that 
business  now." 

"I  suppose  you  run  over  to  New  York  once  in 
a  while,"  he  smiled. 

"No,  the  farthest  trip  we've  made  was  to  River- 
head,  and  it's  beautiful!  Such  a  pretty  park 
— and  a  tremendous  court  house!  But  we've 
never  been  off  of  the  Island,  none  of  us — except 
mother,  who  was  born  in  Connecticut." 

Parkins,  a  man  of  quick  discernment,  caught 
a  sad  expression  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl  behind 
the  counter  of  "The  Goody  Shop,"  so  named  on 
a  neat  little  sign  hinged  to  the  eaves  of  the 
sheltering  overhang. 

"I  suppose  your  mother  stays  at  home  and 


72  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

takes  care  of  the  family?"  he  suggested,  en- 
quiringly. 

"Mother  is  dead,"  replied  the  girl,  calmly,  a 
far-away  expression  in  her  eyes,  as  she  glanced  at 
the  sky.  "She  died  when  I  was  a  baby." 

Now  was  Parkins'  chance  to  impress  the  girl 
with  his  "sympathetic"  nature.  He  sighed  deep- 
ly, and  for  several  moments  looked  at  the  ground 
and  said  nothing.  When,  finally,  he  did  speak 
there  was  pathos  in  his  voice. 

"My  mother  died  when  I  was  a  child  in  arms. 
I  have  no  memory  of  her  whatever,  but  her  photo- 
graph seems  to  speak  to  me  at  times,"  said  he, 
dreamily. 

"I  talk  to  my  mother  every  night,"  replied 
Winifred,  happily.  "She  sends  messages  through 
me  to  my  father,  and  tells  me  what  to  do  for 
him.  He  isn't  very  strong,  but  that  comes  from 
grief  over  her  death.  Now  he  is  much  better. 
It  was  such  a  long  time  before  she  could  reach 
us,"  she  confided,  artlessly. 

And  so  began  the  acquaintance  of  a  man  of 
the  world  and  a  country  lass,  the  man  halting 
between  two  emotions.  In  determining  the 
course  of  his  further  acquaintance  with  the  sweet 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     73 

little  maid  the  best  bargain  he  could  make  with 
himself  was — "I'll  think  it  over."  So,  with  per- 
fect decorum,  and  bowing  and  scraping  he  bade 
the  young  woman  good-by,  adding  the  hope  that 
all  was  square  between  them — since  his  apology. 
He  reached  out  his  hand  as  a  final  test  of  his 
theory  that  he  "had  won  out  with  her,"  and  was 
delighted  when  she  accepted  his  overture  po- 
litely. He  bowed  most  courteously  as  he  sprang 
into  his  wonderful  new  roadster  and  plunged 
forward  along  the  asphalt  road.  For  miles  Wini- 
fred could  hear  the  roar  of  its  exploding  cylin- 
ders, as,  with  mufflers  "cut  out,"  the  car  raced 
along  to  his  fishing  hut  on  the  ocean  side  of  the 
bay. 

"I'll  be  back  to-inorrow,??  he  had  said  on  leav- 
ing, but  she  only  smiled  in  reply,  for  "to-morrow" 
would  be  Sunday,  and  her  duties  were  elsewhere 
— at  church  and  Sunday  school — where  she 
taught  a  class — and  then  home  to  a  noon  dinner 
with  her  father. 

As  time  went  on  Parkins1  week-end  excursions 
increased,  and  various  were  the  cars  he  used. 
A  big  black  mahogany  limousine  and  a  two- 
seated  roadster,  with  rakish  hood  and  brass  trim- 


74  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

mings  that  glistened  like  gold,  were  his  favorites. 

He  never  failed  to  call  at  "The  Goody  Shop," 
and  after  an  acquaintance  of  several  weeks  with 
Winifred  she  accepted  an  invitation  for  a  spin 
along  the  outer  drive  which  she  had  never  seen. 
Henry  Barbour,  now  well  acquainted  with  the 
wealthy  New  Yorker,  esteemed  him  a  gentleman, 
and  consented  to  her  going.  When  she  returned 
with  face  aglow,  and  with  enthusiastic  praise  for 
the  skill  of  the  owner  of  the  car,  her  father 
patted  her  cheeks  and  smiled.  He  was  glad  of 
her  happiness  and  his  trust  in  Parkins  became 
absolute. 

As  the  season  advanced  and  profits  had  been 
large,  Henry  Barbour  expressed  his  opinion  to 
the  effect  that  to  buy  direct  from  New  York 
wholesalers  would  save  him  much  in  the  way  of 
extra  earnings  upon  his  capital.  Buying  from 
salesmen  gave  him  no  chance  to  bargain.  They 
sold  from  printed  lists,  but  by  going  to  New  Yrork 
he  could  make  selections  and  find  right  places  to 
trade. 

"I'll  take  you  over  any  time  you  want  to  go," 
said  Parking,  affably — "and  Miss  Winifred,  too, 
if  she  so  desires." 


THE  HAWK  SEEKS  ITS  PREY     75 

"Oh,  I  do  so  want  to  go,  Father! — say  that  I 
may,  won't  you  dear?"  she  pleaded,  putting  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"But  who  will  take  care  of  the  stand?"  he 
queried.  "We  can't  close  it  up  for  two  days. 
Our  friends  will  think  we  have  quit,  and  we'll 
lose  trade!" 

"Oh,  I  can  manage  that  beautifully,"  pleaded 
Winifred.  "One  of  the  girls  in  my  Sunday 
school  class,  Julie  Hayes — you  know  her,  father 
— she  can  be  taught  in  an  hour  just  what  to  do." 

"By  all  means  allow  her  to  come  along,"  sec- 
onded Parkins,  and  his  appeal  seemed  to  settle 
the  matter. 

Winifred  was  to  wear  her  new  blue  silk  coat 
suit,  and  a  retrimmed  hat  that  had  been  re- 
tired, despite  the  fact  that  Parkins  suggested 
— "we  never  put  on  our  best  when  we  ride  in  a 
touring  car." 

But  to  Winifred  the  trip  was  more  than  an 
outing,  for  her  father  had  some  business  to  at- 
tend to,  and  happily,  there  would  be  plenty  of 
time  to  see  the  "greatest  little  town  in  the  world," 
as  Parkins  called  his  New  York. 

And  so  the  date  was  set,  and  as  fate  often 


76  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

decides,  it  fell  upon  the  second  day  following 
Parkins'  ride  from  Dreamy  Hollow,  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  Santzi — Japanese  body-servant 
to  Drury  Villard.  Had  his  plans  gone  through, 
Viilard,  by  now,  would  have  been  an  inmate  of 
a  certain  Long  Island  asylum,  whose  proprietor 
Parkins  well  knew,  but  in  his  jaded  condition, 
he  decided  to  run  his  car  straight  out  to  his  hut 
and  thereby  thoroughly  refresh  himself  for  the 
excursion  to  New  York — planned  for  the  follow- 
ing day. 

His  inner  consciousness  troubled  him  more 
than  he  could  account  for,  man  of  the  world  that 
he  was,  whose  morals  had  long  since  hardened 
against  the  scruples  of  his  younger  days. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SECRET   SERVICE 

UNDER  fire  Drury  Villard  always  appeared  to 
great  advantage.  He  knew  nothing  of  defeat. 
His  life  work  had  been  a  succession  of  victories, 
and  among  his  acquaintances  there  were  those 
who  credited  his  achievements  to  luck.  As  a 
young  man  he  came  very  near  having  imposed 
upon  him  the  sobriquet  "Lucky''  Villard — but 
he  frowned  upon  it  until  his  intimates  felt  the 
unwisdom  of  that  sort  of  familiarity.  Parkins 
alone  of  the  directory  continued  the  practice 
long  after  the  business  had  grown  into  vast  im- 
portance and  the  Villard  name  had  become 
known  all  over  the  world.  While  credited  with 
being  the  brains  and  motive  power  of  the  huge 
concern  Drury  Villard  had  never  allowed  any 
one  to  say  it  to  his  face  without  protest  on  his 
own  part.  Said  he — 

"If  I've  done  anything  particularly  well  it  is 

to  have  surrounded  myself  with  clever  men  of 

77 


78  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

brains  and  honesty.  With  that  foundation  the 
rock  of  Gilbraltar  had  nothing  on  us,  except  age 
and  advertisement.  The  latter  we  supplied  in  a 
measure  suitable  to  our  needs — but  youth  must 
be  served.  We  must  now  revitalize  or  inevi- 
tably fall  before  the  young  college  trained  men 
now  running  the  country." 

Always  modest,  never  oversanguine,  self-re- 
liant and  honest  to  the  core,  were  attributes 
upon  which  to  build  a  happy  old  age  free  from 
care  and  strife.  One  of  Villard's  beliefs  was  that 
God  never  intended  everything  to  run  smoothly 
— "all  of  the  time."  Reactions  were  necessary. 
Foundations,  no  matter  how  solid  in  the  begin- 
ning, must  be  looked  after,  and  kept  solid.  Noth- 
ing should  be  left  to  chance. 

And  so  it  was  on  going  back  to  bed,  after 
Parkins'  departure,  that  his  mind  reverted  to  the 
affairs  of  his  company.  On  these  his  thoughts 
concentrated.  He  wondered  if  he  had  exhibited 
the  right  policy  in  turning  its  management  over 
to  his  co-partners.  Not  if  the  Parkins'  case  was 
an  example  of  further  consequences.  That  was  his 
thought.  He  wondered  if  others  in  the  organiza- 
tion were  susceptible  to  non-loyal  utterances 


SECRET  SERVICE  79 

concerning  himself  and  his  paramount  in- 
terests. The  best  way  to  get  at  the  facts  was  to 
"look  in  on  the  boys  every  little  while" — and 
that  was  about  the  last  worry  he  indulged  in 
preparatory  to  going  to  sleep.  Then  suddenly 
he  felt  the  nearness  of  his  loved  one,  and  breath- 
ing softly  he  awaited  her  sweet  voice.  At  last  it 
came,  in  the  form  of  a  whisper,  seemingly  very 
close  to  his  ear,  but  strangely  difficult  to  locate. 

"Drury — again  I  warn  you.  The  man  you  sent 
away  must  never  enter  your  life  again.  Dis- 
honesty is  fastened  upon  him.  Attend  at  once. 
There  is  folly  in  waiting." 

Villard,  though  startled,  lay  quite  still.  Then, 
after  a  long  pause,  he  answered — 

"Yes,  Winifred — but  for  you  I  should  have 
been  taken  unaware.  Your  warning  gave  me 
time  to  formulate  a  plan  of  action." 

"Drury,  my  darling — you  shall  not  live  alone. 
You  must  marry  a  kindred  spirit,  a  woman  upon 
whom  you  may  lavish  the  love  that  was  mine.  It 
is  your  nature  to  revere  womankind." 

"But  what  of  my  love  for  you,  my  Winifred 


80  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"And  it  is  myself,  incarnate,  that  you  would 
marry,"  interrupted  the  invisible  Spirit. 

"How  shall  I  know?"  he  faltered,  overwhelmed 
at  the  suggestion. 

"You  will  meet  her — soon." 

"Yes,  yes — go  on!" — he  whispered  hoarsely, 
but  he  waited  in  vain.  The  spirit  of  his  dead 
love  had  gone  back  to  its  resting  place  among  the 
stars. 

Drury  Yillard  accepted  the  theory  that  when 
a  man  is  forty  he  is  in  the  prime  of  life,  and 
after  that  his  physical  powers  wane.  Neverthe- 
less there  were  those  who,  by  obedience  to  na- 
ture's laws,  remained  young  at  sixty.  He  knew 
that  every  five  years  a  normal  brain  and  a  nor- 
mal body  become  attuned  to  the  next  five-year 
period,  and  upon  this  theory  Villard,  now  emerg- 
ing into  his  forty-seventh  year,  had  planned  his 
activities.  By  virtue  of  his  early  training  he  had 
worked  hard  in  working  hours,  and  played  hard 
during  the  daylight  overlapping.  Thus  was 
served  his  grand  physique  and  his  growing  brain, 
each  getting  its  share  of  natural  restoration. 

During  his  first  years  in  business  his  effort 
had  been  prodigious.  Just  out  of  college  he  had 


81 

plunged  into  a  new  enterprise,  the  child  of  his 
own  brain.  Unique,  and  head  and  shoulders 
above  those  whom  he  drew  about  him — from  a 
mental  and  physical  standpoint — his  leadership 
never  was  questioned.  Each  new  acquisition  to 
his  organization  was  picked  by  virtue  of  his 
seemingly  unerring  knowledge  of  men.  As  he 
brought  in  a  new  recruit,  that  person  had  only 
to  make  good  in  order  to  become  a  "special  part- 
ner." Under  the  contract  with  each  man  his 
continuance  with  the  company  hinged  upon  the 
will  of  Villard,  and  by  common  consent  his  fiat 
was  law. 

Of  all  the  men  chosen,  Parkins,  the. brightest 
of  the  lot,  had  been  the  one  man  to  flunk.  Now, 
secretly,  Villard  was  on  his  way  to  New  York 
for  the  one  purpose  of  bringing  him  back  to  the 
fold.  Driving  directly  to  the  apartment  in  Park 
Avenue,  where  Parkins  maintained  his  living 
quarters,  he  was  informed  that  the  gentleman 
had  gone  away.  The  superintendent  was  not 
quite  sure  that  he  had  a  right  to  give  out  infor- 
mation concerning  his  tenants.  When  asked  as 
to  when  Mr.  Parkins  would  probably  return  he 
declined  to  give  an  opinion. 


82  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"But  where  did  he  go?"  demanded  Villard. 

"I  do  not  know.  He  left  no  address,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Then  tell  me  what  you  do  know.  When  did 
he  leave?  Did  he  move  his  effects?" 

"He  left  soon  after  he  returned  here  in  the 
early  morning.  His  furnishings  are  all  here — 
and  he  left  a  check  for  next  month's  rent.  That's 
all  I  know." 

"Are  you  in  full  charge  here?"  inquired  Vil- 
lard, peering  wistfully  in  the  eyes  of  the  man 
before  him. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  agent,  shortly. 

"Tell  me  then,  in  what  condition  was  he  when 
he  arrived — and  when  he  went  away/' 

"Very  angry  on  his  arrival — very  much  up- 
set on  going  away.  I  thought  he  might  have 
taken  something  for  his  nerves." 

"Did  he  speak  to  you  on  leaving?" 

"Yes,  I  came  in  as  he  was  leaving.  He  gave  his 
check  for  rent  to  the  exchange  girl — to  be  handed 
to  me.  I  got  it  all  right.  And  that's  all  I  know." 

"And  your  name,  please? — 'Bender?' — thank 
you,  Mr.  Bender.  I  may  wish  to  speak  with  you 
again.  My  name  is  Villard,  a  very  close  friend 


SECRET  SERVICE  83 

©f  Mr.  Parkins,  and  I  have  business  matters 
requiring  his  presence  at  my  office.  If  he  shows 
up,  kindly  ring  my  phone — Private,  one  hundred. 
It  will  be  to  his  advantage,  I  assure  you." 

Villard  was  soon  within  his  own  office  and 
nervously  pacing  the  floor.  With  his  hands  be- 
hind him  he  twiddled  his  thumbs  and  gave  way 
to  deep  thought. 

"Parkins  must  be  saved!"  he  said  to  himself, 
and  quickening  his  stride,  he  rushed  out  of  his 
private  office  into  the  counting  room. 

"Ring  my  chauffeur,"  said  he,  seeing  and 
speaking  to  no  one  in  particular,  then  returned 
to  his  office.  Shortly  afterward  his  car  was 
announced  and  he  was  soon  headed  for  the  Wall 
Street  district. 

At  the  Updyke  Detective  Agency,  twentieth 
floor  of  the  Universal  Exchange,  he  asked  for 
Updyke  personally  and  was  ushered  in.  The 
two  shook  hands  cordially  and  at  once  got  down 
to  business. 

"Do  you  know  William  Parkins — one  of  my 
special  partners?"  questioned  Villard. 

"I'd  say  I  do — what's  up?" 

"I  can't  find  him." 


84  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Where  have  you  looked?" 

"Called  at  his  apartment — he'd  gone  from 
there,  leaving  a  check  for  a  month's  rent!"  re- 
plied Villard. 

"When?" 

"Early  this  morning — left  no  word — but  paid 
the  month's  rent  in  advance — which  was  un- 
usual." 

"Urn — any  reason  to  be  anxious  about  him?" 

"I'll  give  you  the  whole  story." 

Then,  careful  as  to  details,  Drury  Villard  re- 
cited the  facts  briefly  and  wound  up  by  declaring 
that  he  was  "bent  on  saving  Parkins  from  any 
untoward  act  that  might  lead  to  his  downfall 
—-financially,  morally  or  physically." 

"That's  a  big  order  to  take  down,"  replied 
U^dyke,  laconically. 

"Why?" 

"Do  you  assume  to  know  Bill  Parkins  from 
hat  to  shoes?  Do  you  know  that  he  is  speculat- 
ing upward  on  a  downward  market?  Do  you 
know  that  he  is  a  drunkard,  that  he  takes  dope, 
patronizes  low  places,  and  is  a  disgrace  to  your 
high  class  concern?" 

Villard,  aghast,  stood  up  and  walked  to  and 


SECRET  SERVICE  85 

fro,  across  the  room.  Finally  he  turned  and 
said — 

"He  must  be  saved !" 

"Saved !  Saved  Hell !  Why,  man  alive,  he  is 
beyond  redemption!"  yelled  Updyke,  whose 
forcefulness  caused  Yillard  to  eye  him  critically. 
Evidently  there  were  matters  concerning  his 
Vice  President  of  which  he  was  unaware. 

"How  long  has  he  been  beyond  redemption?'' 
questioned  Villard  in  an  even  tone  of  voice  striv- 
ing to  conceal  the  alarm  within  him  as  best  he 
could. 

"I'll  look  up  his  record,"  replied  Updyke,  ring- 
ing a  bell  and  ordering  out  a  certain  page  from 
a  loose-leaf  book  of  records.  As  he  placed  it  in 
Villard's  hands,  he  glanced  at  it  to  make  sure  it 
was  the  right  document. 

"Here  we  have  his  travelogue  for  five  years 
back,"  said  Updyke,  airily.  "It  began  with  a 
gay  party  in  which  he  was  accused  of  short 
changing  a  fifty  dollar  bill  that  he  was  asked  to 
break.  There  was  a  resort  to  blows,  in  which 
Parkins  got  licked  and  owned  up  to  his  dis- 
honesty. Head  his  whole  record — here  it  is — 
take  it." 


86  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Villard  did  take  it,  and  as  he  read  along  hia 
eyes  filmed  until  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  and 
fell  npon  the  page  containing  the  record.  Then 
suddenly  he  threw  it  upon  Updyke's  table  in 
disgust. 

"Why  didn't  you  inform  me?"  demanded  Vil- 
lard in  tremulous  voice.  "I'm  your  client — am 
I  not?" 

"You  are,  Mr.  Villard,  but — I  thought  I  could 
save  him  without  prejudicing  his  outlook  with 
you.  I  got  soft  hearted — same  as  you  are  at  this 
minute;  and  I  got  a  worse  dose,  and  more  of  it 
for  my  trouble.  I  tried  my  utmost  to  show  him 
that  you  were  the  best  man  in  shoe  leather,  and 
would  forgive  anybody,  anything,  any  time.  But 
there  is  a  breaking  point  that  will  not  stand 
repair,  and  Parkins  had  gone  through  the  crev- 
ice. Don't  try  to  save  that  man,  Mr.  Villard. 
He  is  not  worth  the  tarnish  that  he  will  spread 
upon  your  good  name.  Send  me  his  'walking 
papers'  and  I'll  see  that  he  gets  them.  Make  it 
brief — no  accusations,  giving  him  a  chance  to  sue 
you  for  damages  in  large  amount.  He's  tricky, 
and  crazy.  Get  rid  of  him!  Stay  rid  of  him! 
He  is  a  bad  actor!" 


SECRET  SERVICE  87 

Updyke  was  telling  the  truth,  as  Villard,  hav- 
ing read  the  report,  was  now  convinced. 

'•What  shall  I  say?  What  can  I  say?  The 
report  from  your  files  leaves  me  helpless  in  de- 
fense of  my  most  efficient  partner.  Surely  the 
report  cannot  be  wrong?  I've  never  had  one 
from  you  that  was  the  least  bit  out  of  line  with 
the  facts.  What  shall  I  say  to  him  if  I  conclude 
to  communicate  with  him?" 

"Better  write  me  a  note,  stating  that  Mr.  Par- 
kins has  not  been  about  the  office  with  regu- 
larity, and  that  you  fear  he  lacks  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  company.  Send  me  the  cash  for 
all  you  owe  him,  and  a  receipt  for  him  to  sign, 
made  out  in  full  legal  wording  to  the  effect  that 
it  is  a  final  settlement — and  that  his  services  are 
no  longer  needed.  If  lie  owns  any  stock  in  your 
concern,  and  he  does,  unless  he  has  hocked  it, 
send  me  a  check  to  cover  its  full  market  value, 
and  I  will  buy  it  back,  and  turn  it  over  to  you." 

Villard  sighed  deeply  as  he  agreed  to  the  plan. 

"I  did  so  want  to  save  this  man,  but  I've  been 
warned  before,  from  a  sacred  source,  to  have  done 
with  him  forever/'  said  he  wearily. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'sacred  source'?" 


88 

"Oh,  I  must  not  go  into  that !''  replied  Villard 
sharply. 

"I  get  you — some  of  that  'Over  the  River  Jor- 
dan' stuff.  I  get  you/'  laughed  Updyke. 

"Just  what  are  you  hinting  at,  Mr.  Updyke?" 

Villard's  voice  trembled  as  he  spoke. 

"Now,  Drury  Villard !  Don't  you  know  by  this 
time  that  an  up-to-date  agency  like  this  has  a 
page  on  every  business  man  worth  while,  as  well 
as  the  worthless?  Let  me  show  you  your  sheet. 
Wait,  I'll  get  a  leaf  out  of  a  different  book — here 
it  is  and  you  may  read  it  yourself.  Skip  the 
biographical — that  shows  you  to  be  first  class, 
but  you've  recently  given  cause  for  alarm.  Read 
Article  Seven.  Read  it  aloud,  and  comment  as 
you  will.  We're  friends,  and  you  might  need  me 
as  a  witness  some  day." 

Glancing  quizzically  at  Updyke,  Villard  began 
to  read  the  report — 

"Article  7 — Drury  Villard  has  recently  de- 
veloped an  obsession  of  mind  regarding  the  fu- 
ture estate.  He  has  long  grieved  over  the  death 
of  a  sweetheart  who  passed  away  some  years  ago 
and  at  this  writing  he  suffers  under  the  delusion 
of  hearing  her  voice.  On  retiring  from  active 


SECRET  SERVICE  89 

duty  in  connection  with  the  Villard  Corporation, 
he  was  very  generous  in  his  treatment  of  his 
special  partners.  He  allowed  them  to  buy  stock 
at  a  very  low  price,  and  later  on,  is  to  let  them 
have  more,  if  they  succeed  with  the  business. 
Villard  still  owns  a  three-fourths  holding  but  all 
partners  were  treated  alike  and  are  well  satis- 
fied with  the  deal.  William  Parkins  is  also  Vice- 
President,  but  the  office  of  President  has  been 
abolished,  Drury  Villard  becoming  Chairman  of 
the  Board.  He  now  lives  in  a  retired  way  in 
Long  Island  on  his  private  estate  which  he  has 
named  'Dreamy  Hollowr.'  His  fiance,  now  dead, 
given  name,  'Winifred' — surname  unknown.  His 
nearest  neighbor  (Sawyer),  a  retired  doctor, 
lives  on  adjoining  estate,  said  to  be  very 
wealthy." 

"Xow  what  miserable  cur  could  have  written 
all  of  that  rot!"  exclaimed  Villard. 

"Point  out  all  that  is  in  error  and  I'll  change 
the  report.  We  must  keep  up  our  records,"  said 
Updyke,  sharply,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  ''There 
isn't  a  chance  in  the  world  that  this  record  will 
be  observed  by  any  one  not  connected  with  our 


90  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

office.  I  give  nothing  out  on  death  notices,  or 
biographies." 

"Then  for  what  purpose?"  demanded  Villard. 

"Oh,  if  you  became  a  crook,  or  went  crazy,  we 
would  be  queried  by  certain  interests.  We  ask 
no  favors.  This  business  is  mine.  I  made  it  what 
it  is,  and  it's  worth  a  million  as  it  stands.  If  I 
was  crooked  I  could  say  it's  worth  a  hundred 
million." 

"God — what  a  power  you  hold!  In  case  of 
your  death,  what  a  cruel  use  could  be  made  of 
those  leaves  from  your  records!  What  a 
chance  for  certain  slimy  little  blackmailing 
publications !" 

"My  body  will  be  cremated,  and  with  it  my 
books  of  record.  That's  part  of  my  will.  Now 
I'm  going  to  ease  your  mind — you  have  the  page 
containing  the  facts  about  you.  It  is  the  only 
copy  on  earth.  The  notes  from  which  it  was 
made  up  have  been  destroyed.  If  you  desire  I 
will  destroy  the  page  in  your  presence,  right 
now,"  proffered  Updyke. 

Villard  was  astonished  at  the  proposal. 

"I  wouldn't  care  one  way  or  the  other,  if  it 
wasn't  for " 


SECRET  SERVICE  91 

"Yes,  I  know,"  responded  ~TJpdyke,  "you're 
thinking  of  the  dead.  You  don't  want  her  name 
bandied  about." 

"That's  it — I  am  thinking  of  her — to  memory 
dear.  It's  good  of  you,  Updyke.  Downright 
generous!  But  why  do  you  propose  it  without 
my  asking?" 

Villard  began  to  pace  the  floor. 

"Sit  down,  please,"  said  Updyke  gently,  as  he 
twisted  his  watch  chain,  and  cleared  his  throat 
of  a  great  lump  of  hesitancy.  "I  once  had  a 
sweetheart,  Mr.  Villard,  and  she  went  away,  too 
— somewhere  up  in  the  skies,  just  like  your 
Winifred.  And  like  you  I  have  never  married. 
I  cannot  spare  the  memory  of  her — I'll  die 
single !" 

Every  doubt  of  Updyke's  genuine  friendliness 
was  now  discarded  by  Drury  Villard,  as  his  eyes 
lighted  with  reciprocal  understanding. 

"Wonderful,  old  fellow !  Let  us  find  joy  in  the 
fact  that  we  have  both  loved,  and  both  of  us  have 
been  loved.  Now  we  will  burn  this  record.  That 
shall  be  the  seal  of  our  lasting  friendship." 

Villard's  eyes  spoke  for  his  heart. 


92  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Here,  take  it— burn  it  yourself,  Drury.  I 
shall  call  you  by  your  first  name  hereafter." 

Turning  upon  his  heel,  Henry  Updyke  walked 
to  a  window  and  looked  down  twenty  stories 
upon  the  great  metropolis,  its  streets  agog  with 
people  and  traffic.  When  he  heard  the  click  of 
the  latch  on  the  door,  he  turned  about.  Villard 
had  gone.  It  was  no  longer  necessary  for  Up- 
dj'ke  to  hide  his  emotion. 

But  there  were  things  to  be  done  immediately. 
Parkins  must  be  found  and  delivered  to  Villard. 
Updyke  pressed  a  button  and  immediately  one  of 
his  operatives  entered  and  approached  his  desk. 

"Here's  a  name  on  this  card — I  want  this  man 
brought  to  me  as  soon  as  possible — by  all  means 
before  night.  Do  you  know  him?" 

"Very  well  by  sight.  I've  looked  him  up  be- 
fore— don't  you  remember?" 

"Oh,  yes — the  Peabody  case.  While  drunk 
Parkins  hit  him  over  the  head  with  a  champagne 
bottle — yep — you  brought  Parkins  in.  It  is  a 
shame  we  didn't  send  him.  over  at  that  time  but 
he  begged  me  to  straighten  him  out  and  see  that 
he  reported  for  business  next  morning.  I  did 
.it — and  did  it  more  than  once  since  then.  But 


SECRET  SERVICE  93 

this  will  probably  be  the  last  time  well  need 
hunt  for  him.  His  boss  has  something  on  him 
that  will  bring  him  to  time — I  hope.  Parkins  is 
a  bad  egg,  so  watch  out  for  him,  especially  if  he 
is  in  his  cups.  Now  go  to  it — bring  him  to  me 
if  you  have  to  give  him  a  teaser." 

For  four  hours  Updyke  sat  in  his  chair,  or 
paced  the  floor,  awaiting  word  from  his  opera- 
tive. He  smoked  incessantly  while  reading  the 
evening  papers  and  at  six  thirty  o'clock  ordered 
ham  and  eggs,  and  coffee.  These  had  been  set 
before  him  when  the  night  telephone  gong  gave 
three  loud  clangs.  That  meant  Updyke  himself 
— in  a  hurry.  He  sprang  to  the  receiver  and  in  a 
quiet  unruffled  voice  answered,  "Shoot." 

"Number  twelve  speaking — your  party  dashed 
through  Patchogue  about  eleven  this  morning 
and  was  last  seen  going  east  at  high  speed.  Lost 
trace  until  just  a  few  minutes  ago.  Find  that 
he  has  a  fishing  hut  across  South  Bay  on  the 
ocean  side.  He's  bound  to  come  back  this  way 
— the  question  is,  when?" 

"Where  are  you  now?" 

"Patchogue." 

"What  do  you  advise  ?" 


94  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Well,  I  have  my  motorcycle,  and  I  feel  cer- 
tain he  will  come  back  this  way.  If  I  went  over 
on  the  ocean  side  I  might  have  sand  trouble.  He 
lias  four  wheels  and  a  ninety  horse  roadster.  I 
think  I'd  better  stay  here,"  concluded  "Number 
Twelve." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  replied  Updyke. 
"How  about  the  Sayville  road?  He  might,  for 
a  change,  cut  across  and  run  in  by  way  of  the 
sound.  I  think  I'll  put  two  other  men  out  on 
this,  you  to  carry  out  your  plan,  one  to  watch 
the  Merrick  road,  the  other  on  the  detour  along 
the  sound/' 

"That  might  be  wise  although  it  seems  certain 
he  will  come  back  this  way.  What  shall  I  do 
when  I  locate  him?" 

"Serve  a  'John  Doe'  on  him  and  bring  him  to 
my  office,  otherwise  trail  him  to  the  jumping-off 
place — in  other  words,  get  him !" 

"By  the  way,  there  is  a  fine  looking  girl  at 
Patchogue  who  runs  a  stand.  I  wonder  how  it 
would  do  to  feel  her  out  about  him,"  queried  the 
operative. 

"You  bet  your  boots— that's  a  Parkins  lead  as 
sure  as  you  live,  even  if  it  does  turn  out  bad." 


SECRET  SERVICE  95 

"Then  I'd  better  run  back  there  before  she 
closes  up  for  the  day.  She's  a  humdinger  to  look 
at,"  said  "Number  Twelve"  with  enthusiasm. 

"Well,  see  that  she  doesn't  get  your  goat. 
Keep  your  head  on  your  shoulders  and  don't  be 
led  into  any  girl  trap.  Get  me  at  my  hotel  after 
seven,  through  my  private  wire —  'Updyke'' — 
Will  be  here  until  six-thirty — So  long." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NEW  WINIFRED 

WHEN  "Number  12"  reached  Patchogue  "The 
Goody  Shop"  was  on  the  point  of  being  closed. 
The  girl  in  charge,  and  a  man  she  called 
"father,"  were  instructing  a  young  woman  how 
to  run  the  stand  for  the  next  two  days.  They 
had  all  but  put  up  the  night  shutters  as  tht 
operative  climbed  off  of  his  machine. 

"Any  sandwiches  left?"  he  enquired,  racing  to 
the  stand. 

"Oh,  yes — a  few  nice  ones,  and  some  very  fine 
blueberry  pie,"  replied  the  older  girl  as  smil- 
ingly she  displayed  several  huge  wedges  of  as- 
sorted pies.  "And  here's  a  lovely  slice  of  lemon 
meringue,  the  last  one  left,"  she  urged,  and  at  a 
nod  from  her  customer,  handed  it  to  him  on  a 
pasteboard  plate,  together  with  a  dainty  paper 
napkin. 

As  the  operative  put  his  plate  upon  the  sill  of 
the  stand  and  began  to  eat,  the  two  girls  and 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED          97 

"father"  continued  their  conversation  about  a 
grand  ride  over  to  New  York  next  day.  Listen- 
ing in  on  the  conversation  he  learned  which  girl 
was  going  on  the  trip — her  friend  called  her 
Winifred — and  when  she  spoke  to  the  man  she 
addressed  him  as  Mr.  Barbour. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  along,  Julie,"  said  the 
girl  Winifred,  very  much  delighted.  Then  she 
said — "Mr.  Parkins  is  taking  us  in  his  big  four- 
passenger  roadster — how  many  horse  powers  has 
it,  father?  It  must  be  a  lot — something  like 
several  hundred  I  would  think  from  the  noise  it 
makes  sometimes." 

"No,  it's  a  ninety,"  corrected  her  father  who 
seemed  proud  of  his  better  knowledge. 

"What  time  do  you  leave  for  New  York?" 
enquired  the  girl,  Julie. 

"Mr.  Parkins  is  to  pick  us  up  at  the  house  at 
ten  to-morrow  morning.  And  then,  away  we 
go! — just  whizzing  along  Merrick  Koad  so  we 
can  see  all  of  the  beautiful  homes  along  the  Bay 
— and  the  Sound  coming  back !  My,  but  he  drives 
fearfully  fast!  I  expect  to  be  frozen  with  fright 
by  the  time  we  arrive  in  the  city." 

Having  fallen  into  all  of  the  information  he 


98  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

could  haye  wished  for,  "Number  12"  suddenly 
quit  on  his  second  wedge  of  pie  and  asked  which 
was  the  best  hotel  nearby.  "Roadside  Inn"  was 
pointed  out  just  across  the  street,  and  rolling 
his  motorcycle  beside  him  he  walked  over  and 
went  inside. 

Once  in  his  room  "Number  12"  got  busy. 
Looking  at  his  watch  he  concluded  that  Updyke 
would  be  at  his  hotel,  but  that  was  up  to  Central. 
"Updyke"  was  all  he  needed  to  say  and  in  less 
than  a  minute  he  had  his  man. 

"All  right,  shoot,"  came  the  regular  answer  by 
which  "the  big  boss"  announced  himself — "Num- 
ber 12?"  he  queried. 

"Yep— got  the  whole  works.  Am  at  Patchogue, 
Eoadside  Inn,  phone  Patchogue — twenty.  The 
father  rather  old  and  solemn,  neither  ever  saw 
New  York  before,  and  never  off  of  the  island. 
Has  a  pie  stand  on  the  parkway — darn  good 
pies  too." 

«Soft  enough,  I'd  say,"  replied  Updyke.  "Shall 
I  run  a  man  out  to  you  to-night?" 

"Why  not  come  out  yourself — if  it's  an  im- 
portance case?" 

"No— if  he  gets  away  from  you  I'll  nab  him 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED          99 

here.  He's  up  to  bis  regular  tricks — the  scoun- 
drel!— now  don't  you  fail  to  nail  that  fellow!" 
warned  Updyke,  to  whom  the  whole  situation 
was  as  plain  as  daylight  from  darkness.  "Trail 
him  and  keep  me  posted  on  the  route  he  has 
taken.  No  doubt  he'll  cross  on  the  Queens- 
borough  bridge." 

Running  true  to  form  the  Parkins  roadster 
roared  its  way  into  Patchogue  next  morning, 
and  the  operative  quietly  registered  on  his  tab 
— "one  brandy  and  soda  at  Roadside  Inn."  Im- 
mediately afterward  Parkins  jumped  into  his 
car  and  ran  slowly  two  streets  west  and  turned 
north  one  block.  The  Updyke  man  did  not  have 
to  leave  his  chair  on  the  porch  of  the  hotel  in 
order  to  witness  the  movements  of  the  big  car. 
TJiere  was  a  hasty  carrying  out  of  two  suitcases, 
and  a  hamper  probably  containing  luncheon. 
Then  the  big  car  turned  back  to  the  south  on  the 
Merrick  Road  and  proceeded  west  at  a  lively 
clip. 

Shortly  thereafter,  "Number  12"  trailed  in  at 
a  safe  distance  behind,  and  it  was  with  much 
skill  that  he  kept  the  roadster  in  view,  but  never 
in  a  way  to  attract  Parkins'  notice.  The  girl 


100  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

sat  in  front,  and  by  the  way  she  turned  her  head 
and  indicated  pretty  homes  to  her  father  it  was 
evident  that  her  mind  was  carefree. 

Not  knowing  the  inside  history  of  the  case,  the 
operative  rode  stolidly  along  behind.  Coming  to 
a  roadhouse  in  one  of  the  villages  he  stopped 
and  phoned  Updyke,  all  done  in  less  than  three 
minutes — then  he  crowded  on  the  gas  until  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  party.  Almost  at  once  he 
lost  them  again  by  reason  of  sharp  turns  in  the 
road,  but  all  was  well,  and  he  had  no  fear  of 
losing  them,  for  miles  ahead  there  wras  no  other 
road  to  turn  into. 

Three  minutes  later  he  came  upon  a  sight  that 
made  his  blood  run  cold.  There,  around  the 
curve,  in  a  hollow  just  ahead,  were  two  cars 
overturned  and  smashed  beyond  repair ! 

Strange  are  the  ways  of  Providence. 

There  are  times  when  coincidence  and  circum- 
stances blend  into  episodes  for  which  there  is  no 
accounting — an  act  of  God — in  terms  of  legal 
phrasing.  As  Parkins'  car  took  a  curve  in  the 
road  at  high  speed  going  west,  Drury  Villard 
and  his  neighbor,  Dr.  Sawyer — out  for  a  leis- 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         101 

urely  spin  with  Santzi  at  the  wheel — were  on 
the  same  road  heading  east. 

The  day  was  especially  fine,  and  with  top  down 
the  Villard  car  sped  along  the  concrete  road 
without  a  jolt  or  a  jar.  Sawyer,  in  a  most 
excellent  mood,  was  inclined  to  speak  jokingly 
of  the  Parkins  episode  at  Dreamy  Hollow  two 
days  previously.  But  to  all  of  his  sallies  Villard 
failed  to  answer  in  kind.  Certain  "messages" 
were  on  his  mind,  and  along  with  them  a  mixture 
of  joy  and  sorrow  combined.  Could  another 
Winifred  answer  the  call  of  his  yearning?  Could 
his  heart  go  out  to  any  other  than  the  Winifred 
of  old?  He  doubted  it,  but  he  owed  it  to  his 
dead  love  to  await  certain  events,  since  she  had 
urged  the  duty  upon  him. 

So  absorbed  was  he  in  contemplating  the  situ- 
ation that  he  was  quite  unprepared  for  the  sud- 
den application  of  the  emergency  brakes.  His 
car  was  rounding  a  curve  at  a  healthy  speed 
when  suddenly  Santzi  pulled  up  short,  just  in 
time  to  avoid  the  wreckage  of  two  monster  ma- 
chines overturned  in  collision.  Each  had  been 
smashed  into  a  veritable  mass,  and  the  silence 
of  the  scene  served  to  accentuate  the  gruesome 


102  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

aspect  of  the  otherwise  beautiful  surroundings. 
Suddenly  a  tall  man  with  hair  of  iron  gray 
staggered  to  his  feet  and  shouted — "Winifred !" 

"Winifred!"  echoed  Villard,  jumping  from  his 
car.  In  a  second  more  Sawyer,  hastening  to 
alight,  called  upon  Santzi  to  rush  along  for  a 
doctor,  and  to  notify  the  motor  police. 

Villard,  who  stood  spellbound  on  hearing  the 
name  he  adored,  soon  forced  himself  into  action. 
Instantly  the  words  that  were  whispered  to  him 
in  the  early  morning  hours  came  to  mind.  "It  is 
myself,  incarnate,  that  you  will  marry — You  will 
meet  her  soon — There  will  be  an  accident — You 
will  give  assistance/' 

He  saw  a  man,  hatless  and  bleeding,  rushing 
madly  about  calling  the  name  Winifred.  Villard 
again  took  up  the  cry. 

"Winifred! — Winifred !"  he  shouted,  running 
from  point  to  point  amid  the  wreckage. 

His  search  was  soon  successful. 

Of  several  persons  strewn  about  the  roadside 
he  knew  instinctively,  when  he  had  stooped  over 
the  form  of  the  one  he  sought.  He  dropped  to 
his  knees  and  seized  her  hands,  chafing  them 
vigorously  to  renew  suspended  animation.  He 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         103 

placed  his  hand  upon  her  brow,  and  raised  an  eye- 
lid— then  bent  over  and  put  his  ear  to  her  heart. 

"Winifred,"  he  whispered  softly.  "Wake  up, 
dear  child !" 

Then  jumping  to  his  feet  he  shouted  to  her 
father : 

"Here  she  is,  sir — and  she's  coming  back  to 
life!  Water,  Sawyer — find  a  thermos  bottle! 
There  must  be  one  somewhere  in  the  wreckage." 

To  Villard  all  else  in  the  world  was  naught 
but  this  beautiful  child  woman  whose  head  and 
body  rested  against  his  breast.  As  if  paralyzed 
her  father  looked  on,  mute  and  despairing. 

"Splash  some  on  her  cheeks,"  he  commanded 
of  Sawyer,  who  hastened  forward  with  the  bot- 
tle from  one  of  the  upturned  cars. 

"More — more — ah — that's  the  stuff — water ! 
See?  She  is  breathing  again,  and  I  doubt  that 
she  is  very  much  injured.  We'll  soon  know," 
he  said  to  himself  as  he  began,  ever  so  gently,  to 
raise  her  arms,  and  nether  limbs  one  by  one. 
Then  he  laid  her,  full  length,  upon  the  grass, 
and  pillowed  her  head  with  his  motor  coat. 

"She  doesn't  cry  out — no  bones  broken — thank 
God! — just  bruised,  and  shocked  by  the  impact 


104  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

after  fall,"  he  explained  to  the  dazed  father 
with  quiet  gentleness.  "Get  some  cushions  out 
of  the  wreck  and  we'll  make  her  comfortable 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree." 

Almost  immediately  a  man  on  a  motorcycle 
dashed  upon  the  scene  and  with  difficulty  stopped 
in  time.  Throwing  his  machine  to  one  side  he 
ran  quickly  to  the  big  roadster — "Number  12" 
had  literally  run  his  man  to  earth.  There  lay 
the  inanimate  form  of  William  Parkins  with 
the  pallor  of  death  upon  his  face,  and  a  bleeding 
wound  well  back  of  his  left  ear  near  the  occipital 
bone.  His  body  was  pinned  beneath  his  heavy 
roadster. 

"The  man  is  alive — give  me  a  hand !"  shouted 
"Number  12"  to  Barbour,  who,  still  dazed,  had 
fallen  to  his  knees  in  prayer  for  his  daughter's 
life.  But,  he  made  no  answer,  thereupon  Saw- 
yer responded  as  best  he  could  for  a  man  of  his 
age.  It  was  more  than  a  one-man  job  to  raise 
the  tonneau  of  the  big  machine  in  order  to 
allow  Sawyer  to  drag  the  limp  body  from  be- 
neath the  wreck. 

A  retired  doctor  himself  he  knew  how  to  man- 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         105 

age  the  situation  better  than  the  man  who  still 
called  for  his  girl. 

"I  know  this  fellow,"  said  Sawyer,  breathing 
hard  from  hia  effort  in  helping  to  release  the  un- 
conscious man  under  the  roadster. 

"Who  is  he?"  demanded  the  motorcycle  man, 
incredulous. 

"His  name  is  Parkins,  unless  I  am  greatly 
mistaken,"  replied  Sawyer,  still  puzzled,  but 
practically  sure. 

"You're  right/'  agreed  the  man  who  liad  been 
trailing  the  victim  for  nearly  an  hour.  "He  is 
a  bad  actor,  and  it  was  my  intention  to  arrest 
him  on  the  New  York  side  of  Williamsiburg 
bridge.  I'd  hate  to  have  him  croak  before  my 
boss  sees  him,"  he  concluded,  and  then  fell  to 
his  knees  and  began  the  work  of  bringing  Parkins 
back  to  life. 

"What  is  he  wanted  for?"  asked  Sawyer, 
after  several  moments  of  hesitation. 

"I'll  have  to  refer  you  to  my  boss  as  to  that.  I 
was  told  to  get  him,  and  it's  up  to  me  to  find  a 
way  to  deliver  him.  You  can  bet  that  he  is 
going  to  have  a  long  dry  spell  after  the  old  man 
gets  through  with  him,"  sneered  the  operative 


106  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

as  he  looked  upon  the  limp  figure  now  stretched 
out  upon  the  grassy  roadside. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'old  man'?"  enquired 
Sawyer. 

"My  boss — and  what  he  doesn't  know  about 
people !  Well,  what's  the  use  to  speculate?  I 
had  a  hard  time  keeping  Parkins  in  sight.  Forty 
to  sixty  miles  was  his  gait.  Pretty  fast  for  a 
narrow  concrete  roadbed." 

Parkins  now  began  to  breathe  heavily,  and 
moan.  Anxious  that  Villard  should  be  apprised 
concerning  him,  Sawyer  walked  hastily  over  to 
where  he  sat,  still  holding  the  girl's  wrist  and 
counting  the  pulsations. 

"The  man  we  took  from  under  the  big  car  is 
William  Parkins,"  said  he,  laconically.  "He  will 
live — probably." 

Drury  Villard  looked  up  in  amazement. 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes — it's  Parkins — still  Vice  President  of 
your  company!" 

Sawyer  looked  steadily  into  Villard's  upturned 
eyes,  and  shook  his  head  ominously.  "Bad  news 
to  get  into  the  papers,  Drury.  What  do  you 
suggest?" 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         107 

Receiving  no  answer  Sawyer  stood  thought- 
fully stroking  his  chin  until  his  mind  had  settled 
the  matter. 

"I  will  take  Parkins  into  my  home  until  we 
can  think  out  a  plan  of  action,"  he  said,  finally. 
"You  take  the  girl  and  her  father  into  your 
home  for  the  present.  Then  there  will  be  no 
chance  for  news  to  leak.  Mrs.  Bond  will  look 
out  for  her." 

"How  about  the  doctor?"  replied  Villard, 
thoughtfully.  "He  might " 

"Doctors  are  like  lawyers;  they  serve  well 
those  who  pay  well — especially  when  the  public 
interest  is  better  served  thereby." 

"First-class  reasoning,  Mend  Sawyer.  Our 
plan  is  made.  When  Santzi  returns  we'll  take 
both  patients  and  the  girl's  father  into  my  car 
and  race  for  home.  What  about  the  other  ma- 
chine— any  one  hurt?" 

"No,  just  a  colored  chauffeur  returning  with 
an  empty  car  from  the  city.  He  jumped  in  time 
to  save  himself  and  is  now  waiting  for  some  one 
to  take  the  wreck  to  the  nearest  garage.  It  is 
pretty  well  smashed,  but  the  boy  is  unscathed." 

With  plans  all  mapped  out  they  were  quickly 


108  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

put  into  execution.  Upon  the  return  of  Santzi 
with  Doctor  Benton,  who  followed  in  his  run- 
about, the  medical  man  at  once  put  his  ear  to 
the  girl's  heart — then,  to  make  sure,  used  his 
stethoscope. 

"We'll  get  her  over  to  Dreamy  Hollow  at 
once,"  said  he,  glancing  at  Villard,  who  nodded 
affirmatively.  "Her  heart  is  beating  strong 
enough,  but  she  must  not  see  this  wreck  when 
she  comes  out  of  her  present  state.  Put  her 
into  your  car  at  once,  while  I  take  a  look  at  the 
man  lying  on  the  grass.  Who  is  the  old  fellow 
over  there  praying?"  he  inquired  sharply. 

"The  girl's  father,"  replied  Sawyer,  shaking 
his  head  sadly.  His  sympathy  was  genuine. 

"I'll  take  him  in  with  me,"  volunteered  Doctor 
Benton,  but  Villard  objected  as  he  wanted  to  talk 
with  the  father  of  the  girl. 

Under  orders  Santzi  drove  back  to  Dreamy 
Hollow  without  a  bump  against  his  tires.  Dur- 
ing the  short  time  occupied  by  the  trip  the 
father  of  the  girl  gave  his  name  as  Alexander 
Barbour,  of  Patchogue,  and  also  stated  that  his 
daughter  Winifred  was  his  only  child.  Her 
mother,  long  since  dead,  left  her,  a  tiny  new-born 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         109 

babe,  to  remind  him  of  her  own  dear  self.  With- 
out the  child,  he  might  easily  have  gone  crazy 
from  grief  and  loneliness,  but  little  Winifred 
had  steadied  him  every  step  of  his  way  by  her 
sweetness  of  disposition  and  her  loving  consid- 
eration. 

"I  dread  the  time  when  the  right  man  comes 
for  her,"  he  sighed.  "Now,  she  is  mine,  but 
some  day  her  mate  will  call  and  she  will  go  to 
him." 

Alexander  Barbour  was  deeply  moved  by  the 
thought  of  the  sad  fate  in  store  for  himself. 

"But  that  should  not  worry  you,"  said  Vil- 
lard.  "Make  a  bargain  with  the  man  she  marries 
that  you  are  privileged  to  live  near  by  and  may 
visit  your  daughter  as  often  as  you  desire.  No 
decent  husband  would  deny  that  right,"  he  con- 
cluded, smiling  into  the  father's  eyes. 

"I'll  be  glad  if  it  turns  out  that  way — usually 
it  doesn't.  But  in  any  event  I  should  miss  her 
sadly.  She  hears  from  her  mother  every  little 
while." 

"What!" 

Drury  Villard  could  hardly  realize  that  this  un- 


110  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

conscious  little  child-woman  possessed  such 
powers. 

"Yes,  her  mother  tells  her  what  to  do,  and 
gives  her  messages  from  others  to  be  delivered 
to  earthly  friends.  She  got  word  through  her 
mother  last  night  from  some  one  by  the  name  of 
Winifred.  She  is  reticent  on  the  subject,  but  I 
know  that  she  regards  the  advice  as  sacred." 

Running  his  fingers  through  his  hair  nervously, 
Barbour  admitted  that  her  power  was,  to  him,  a 
great  mystery,  but  as  to  the  revelations  he  re- 
mained silent,  as  if  in  awe  concerning  them. 

Twenty  minutes  later  Mrs.  Bond,  the  house- 
keeper at  Dreamy  Hollow,  stood  speechless  at 
the  porte-cochere  as  she  beheld  her  master  alight- 
ing from  his  car  with  a  woman  in  his  arms. 
Amazed,  the  good  lady  reached  out  as  if  to  take 
the  fair  burden  from  him,  but  Villard  demurred. 
He  had  held  her  in  his  arms  during  the  ride  and 
he  would  risk  no  accidental  stumble  on  the  stair- 
way. Turning  to  Santzi  he  ordered  him  in  a  low 
voice  to  drive  Dr.  Sawyer  to  his  home,  and  to 
help  him  with  Parkins  until  the  doctor  arrived. 

"He's  coming  on  behind  us  and  will  be  here  any 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED         111 

moment.  He  will  go  to  Dr.  Sawyer's  as  soon  as 
he  gets  through  here,"  added  Villard. 

So  saying,  the  master  of  Dreamy  Hollow,  with 
careful  step  mounted  the  grand  stairway  leading 
to  the  second  floor.  Mrs.  Bond  had  rushed  on 
ahead  to  the  "hospital"  suite,  so-called,  be- 
cause of  its  equipment  for  emergencies  and  its 
wonderful  outlook  over  South  Bay,  with  its  miles 
of  magnificent  gardens.  Ever  so  gently  he  laid 
his  fair  burden  upon  the  bed  prepared  for  her 
and  after  gazing  into  her  beautiful  face,  turned 
and  left  the  room.  As  he  approached  the  head 
of  the  stairway  he  met  Doctor  Benton  coming  up, 
and  with  him,  Mr.  Barbour,  whose  face  still 
showed  the  agony  of  his  mind.  To  him  Villard 
said — 

"Don't  go  in — she  is  being  put  to  bed  by  Mrs. 
Bond.  We'll  wait  in  the  room  next  door,  until 
the  doctor  gets  through.  This  room  you  will 
occupy  until  all  is  well  with  your  daughter," 
he  concluded  as  he  smiled  into  the  troubled  face 
of  the  anxious  father. 

Doctor  Benton,  after  a  brief  examination, 
arose  from  his  chair  beside  the  patient,  a  broad 
smile  lighting  up  his  face. 


112  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"No  medicine,  plenty  of  fresh  air,  water  if  she 
asks  for  it.  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour.  I  must  get 
to  that  man  Parkins.  He  is  bad  off,  and  may  not 
get  through/'  said  he,  hastening  away. 

At  once  Mrs.  Bond  went  to  the  room  occupied 
by  the  father  of  the  girl  and  beckoned  Villard 
into  the  hall.  As  he  appeared  she  motioned  him 
to  follow  her  into  the  room  where  Winifred  had 
been  tenderly  placed  on  a  downy  bed,  and  a  cover- 
let thrown  about  her. 

"She's  all  tucked  in  and  looks  like  an  angel," 
she  whispered,  tip-toeing  up  to  the  bedside,  with 
Villard  closely  following.  "Isn't  she  the  sweet- 
est thing  you  ever  saw? — the  doctor  left  no  medi- 
cine— says  she's  all  right!" 

Villard  stood  silent  for  more  than  a  minute 
before  replying,  but  it  was  evident  that  he 
yearned  for  the  speedy  recovery  of  the  charming 
creature. 

"I  wish  she  would  open  her  eyes — I've  never 
seen  them  yet,  although  I  held  her  in  my  arms 
for  ten  minutes,"  he  replied,  whimsically — and 
strange  to  say  Winifred's  eyes  did  open — bright 
as  diamonds  they  were,  but  with  no  sense  of  rec- 


THE  NEW  WINIFRED        113 

ollection  until  she  had  gazed  upon  the  face  of 
Drury  Villard. 

At  once  a  vague  expression  of  happiness  came 
over  her  fair  features,  but  faintly  smiling  and 
with  eyes  closed,  she  went  back  to  sleep. 

Villard,  now  buoyant,  grasped  Mrs.  Bond's 
arm  and  led  her  out  of  the  room.  When  they 
were  safely  out  of  hearing  he  stopped  abruptly 
and  looked  into  her  face. 

"Did  you  observe  that  she  recognized  me?''  he 
asked  eagerly. 

"I  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Bond.  "It  gave  me  a 
start,  for  I  felt  that  neither  of  you  had  seen 
each  other  before  to-day." 

"That's  true — we  have  not  met  before.  But 
how  may  we  account  for  the  fact,  that  after  she 
looked  into  each  of  our  faces,  mine  was  the  one 
she  thought  she  knew?" 

"I  give  it  up,  unless  she  was  directed  by  that 
Divinity  which  shapes  our  destinies,"  replied 
the  housekeeper,  with  much  feeling. 

Hastening  to  Barbour's  room  he  opened  the 
door  without  formality  and  found  his  guest  upon 
his  knees  in  silent  prayer.  Touched  at  the  sight 
he  went  forward  and  knelt  beside  him,  placing  a 


114  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

hand  upon  his  shoulder.    Then  he  whispered  into 
his  ear — 

"She  is  safe — the  doctor  says  so — your  prayer 
has  been  answered  even  as  you  made  your  wishes 
known.  You  should  look  upon  her  sweet  face — 
come  with  me,"  appealed  Villard  as  he  helped 
the  grief-stricken  father  to  his  feet  and  escorted 
him  to  the  bedside  where  his  child,  with  a  smile 
on  her  lips,  still  slept.  But  the  fact  that  she 
lived  was  enough  joy  for  Alexander  Barbour. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HENRY    UPDYKE   DROPS   IN 

WONDERING  what  might  be  going  on  at  Saw- 
yer's home,  Villard  went  into  his  study  and  gave 
him  a  ring  over  the  phone.  Sawyer  personally 
answered  the  call.  Evidently  the  episode  of  the 
morning  had  been  trying,  for  his  voice  was  gruff 
— much  deeper  than  usual. 

"Who  calls?"  he  demanded  in  a  rasping  tone. 

"Villard  speaking — I  have  been  wondering 
how  matters  stood  over  your  way.  All  serene 
over  here.  The  girl  has  opened  her  eyes,  but  im- 
mediately went  back  to  sleep." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that — over  here  the  situa- 
tion is  terrible!  This  man  Parkins  is  a  ruffian 
— at  death's  door  his  oaths  are  blasphemous, 
and  to  those  who  are  trying  to  save  his  worthless 
life  he  shouts  defiance  and  demands  his  revolver 
that  he  may  'kill  the  whole  bunch' — to  use  his 
words,  expurgated.  His  language  toward  Doctor 
Benton  was  vile !" 

115 


116  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Well,  well— that  must  be  stopped !  Wouldn't 
it  be  safe  to  more  him  to  a  sanitarium — or  some- 
thing?" 

"Yes — an  asylum  for  insane  drunkards — that's 
what  you  meant  to  say — wasn't  it?" 

"Approximately  that — why  not  drop  over  for 
a  while  and  we  will  have  a  chat?  You  can  count 
on  me — you  know  that.  I'm  awfully  sorry  that 
you're  mixed  up  in  this,  but  when  you  come  to 
know  the  girl  you'll  forgive  everything." 

"I'll  do  that  now,  and  I  will  be  right  over,'' 
said  Sawyer,  slamming  the  receiver  back  in  its 
place  in  pure  spite  against  the  upheavals  of  the 
day. 

It  was  well  along  toward  evening  before  Dr. 
Sawyer  took  leave  of  Villard's  happy  hospitality. 
He  had  even  been  invited  to  take  a  peep  at  the 
beautiful  Winifred  Barbour,  who  still  slept,  but 
would  soon  be  normal — according  to  the  doctor 
whose  second  call  had  brought  complete  assur- 
ance to  the  household.  But  the  ever  recurring 
subject  between  them  was  William  Parkins. 
What  should  be  done  with  him?  More  than 
once  Villard  showed  signs  of  irresolution  regard- 
ing him.  Perhaps  if  he  were  sent  to  one  of  the 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  117 

far-off  branches — Cape  Town,  for  instance — but 
Sawyer  threw  up  his  hands  and  shouted  "Pish — 
tush!" 

"Why  man  alive — he  would  kill  the  business 
of  all  your  foreign  connections.  Asylum! — put 
him  in  a  place  where  he  may  reflect  at  his  leisure 
— and,  say ! — here's  an  idea — send  for  Henry  Up- 
dyke!"  exclaimed  Sawyer,  banging  the  arm  of 
his  chair. 

Without  a  word  Villard  stepped  into  the  booth 
and  rang  up  his  man — promptly  making  connec- 
tion. 

"I  wish  you'd  run  down  here,  Henry,"  said 
he,  "I  have  a  problem  to  solve." 

"You  bet  you  have — same  old  problem — Par- 
kins!" 

"Of  course  you  would  know  all  about  our 
trouble,"  laughed  Villard.  "You  surely  have  a 
nose  for  news." 

"Yep — Parkins  is  at  Sawyer's  pretty  well 
smashed,  but  still  keeping  his  eyes  open.  We  are 
watching  the  place — night  and  day  shift  from 
now  on — but  we've  got  nothing  on  him.  You 
can't  jail  a  man  for  a  smash-up  unless  it  was  by 


118  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

premeditated  defiance  of  the  speed  laws.  And 
you'd  have  to  prove  it.  How  is  the  girl?" 

"Resting  easily — Benton  says  she'll  come 
through  all  right." 

"Wonderful  girl — eh?  I've  seen  her  off  and  on 
since  she  was  a  little  child.  I've  known  the 
father  quite  well — a  dull  sort,  but  easy  to  extract 
information  from — if  he  has  any.  If  he  ever  had 
any  he  didn't  know  it — just  gave  it  up  by  way  of 
general  conversation.  I  guess  I'll  run  down  after 
a  while,  probably  be  at  your  house  about  eight — 
that  gives  you  time  for  your  dinner." 

"Bless  you,  yes — come  down  at  once  and  break 
bread  with  me — I'll  wait." 

"No — can't  leave  now — see  you  to-night  at 
eight — have  Sawyer  there  if  you  can." 

"He's  here  now — I'll  have  him  dine  with  us. 
He's  pretty  well  broken  up  over  the  day — but — 
my  boy ! — it  has  been  a  great  day  for  me ! — 
can't  talk  now — good-bye!" 

Turning  to  his  friend  Sawyer,  Villard  again 
appealed  to  him  to  stay  for  dinner,  but  his  neigh- 
bor felt  that  that  day  had  worn  him  out.  Bed 
was  the  place  for  him,  as  early  as  possible,  after 
his  dinner.  He  urged  that  Updyke  be  coaxed  to 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  119 

stay  over  night,  and  take  a  look  at  Parkins. 
Dreading  the  presence  of  the  man  in  his  home  he 
stood  in  need  of  courage,  and  Villard  agreed  to 
hold  Updyke  if  such  a  thing  were  possible. 

Promptly  at  eight  the  big  fellow  rode  into  the 
driveway  at  Dreamy  Hollow,  accompanied  by 
two  men,  a  chauffeur  and  an  operative.  Having 
been  expected,  Villard  himself  met  Updyke  at 
the  porte-cochere  along  with  the  servant.  Sant- 
zi  hovered  near,  but  was  not  obsequious.  When 
the  guest  had  alighted,  he  jumped  upon  the  run- 
ning board  and  showed  his  man  the  way  to  the 
garage.  It  had  been  a  glorious  day  for  Santzi 
as  he  had  served  his  employer  well,  which  made 
him  very  happy.  When  the  car  was  garaged  he 
led  the  way  to  his  small  kitchenette  and  served 
the  two  men  a  Japanese  dinner. 

Meanwhile  the  big  mansion  showed  no  lights, 
Villard  and  Updyke  having  gone  into  consulta- 
tion in  Villard's  office.  Big  men  that  they  were, 
each  eyed  the  other  solemnly,  and  then,  simul- 
taneously they  broke  out  with  a  hearty  laugh — 
and  that  relieved  the  tension. 

"Life  is  a  great  experience,"  said  Villard,  his 


120  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

big  open  face  radiating  his  good  humor — "one 
little  thing  right  after  another." 

"And  the  more  we  langh  the  more  we  live,"  re- 
plied Updyke,  lighting  his  usual  black  cigar. 

"A  big  day  for  me,  Henry!"  exclaimed  the 
host;  "a  great  day  indeed!" 

"Yep — little  Winifred — your  luck  is  phenome- 
nal, old  fellow.  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my 
heart." 

"But  suppose  she  wakes  up  and  asks  for  Par- 
kins?" queried  Villard,  anxiously. 

"I  had  thought  of  that,  and  my  hope  is  that 
something  else  will  occur.  But  that  very  thing 
might  happen.  Better  be  prepared  for  it,"  said 
Updyke,  his  face  denoting  his  serious  thought 
on  that  subject. 

"Please  particularize,  Henry.  What  precedent 
have  you  to  offer?" 

Villard's  interest  was  from  the  depths  of  his 
heart  and  the  uncertainty  of  the  girl's  attitude 
on  awakening  was  already  forming  a  dread  in  his 
mind. 

"I  gauge  my  thoughts  on  what  has  gone  before 
in  numerous  cases.  Consider  yourself  in  my  car 
seated  in  front  beside  me.  I'm  loaded  with  booze 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  121 

but  it  is  inside  of  me,  so  I  do  not  catch  the  odor 
of  it  myself.  But  you,  who  have  never  touched 
liquor,  catch  a  whiff  of  it,  and  instantly  your 
suspicion  is  aroused  to  the  fact  that  I'm  a  drink- 
ing man." 

"But  there  are " 

"Yes,  I  know  there  are  moderate  drinkers,  but 
girls  brought  up  carefully,  as  Winifred  has  been, 
have  nevertheless  come  to  know  the  terrorism 
of  old  John  Barleycorn.  She  lives  near  a  great 
artery  of  automobile  traffic.  Most  of  it  perfectly 
respectable,  but  some  of  it  vile  and  besotted.  She 
reads  the  Kiverhead  paper  probably,  and  a  maga- 
zine of  some  sort,  appealing  to  her  feminine  view- 
point. In  other  words,  now  that  she  is  a  business 
woman,  her  vision  has  enlarged,  and  not  a  day 
goes  by  that  she  does  not  witness  something  that 
reminds  her  that  she  is  opposed  to  drunkards. 
But  she  is  sorry  for  them,  nevertheless.  Given 
her  choice,  she  surely  would  not  associate  with  a 
man  who  drinks." 

"Undoubtedly  Parkins  had  been  drinking.  Dr. 
Benton  admitted  as  much  to  me,"  volunteered 
Villard.  "The  odor  was  still  on  his  breath." 

"Yes,  but  Winifred  may  not  have  sensed  it,  for 


122  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Parkins  uses  the  old  fashioned  eau  de  cologne 
on  his  lips,  eyebrows,  handkerchief,  and  his  hair 
always  smells  of  pomade  and  tonic.  A  country 
girl  might  easily  believe  that  perfume  used  by  a 
fascinating  fellow  like  Parkins  was  quite  the 
thing,  but  no  girl  would  sit  beside  a  man  who 
drove  into  a  curve  at  a  fifty  or  sixty  mile  gait 
without  sensing  danger — would  she?" 

"I  dare  say  no  sophisticated  girl  would — 
probably  no  girl,  sophisticated  or  otherwise, 
would  fail  of  being  apprehensive,"  agreed  Vil- 
lard. 

"Very  well — now  comes  the  point  you  origi- 
nated. You  asked  me  to  guess  what  she  will 
say  when  she  comes  to  her  senses.  She  will  not 
say  what  you  think  she  will.  The  last  thing  she 
thought  about  just  as  the  cars  collided  will  be 
the  thoughts  she  will  wake  up  with." 

"Sounds  logical,"  agreed  Villard. 

"Statistics  prove  it  in  hundreds  of  cases.  As 
her  senses  left  her  she  felt  a  shock  akin  to 
death,"  said  Updyke,  soberly.  "And  as  she  went 
into  what  looked  to  be  certain  death  she  must 
have  wondered  if  Parkins  was  insane.  It  was 
all  so  sudden,  her  thoughts  may  not  have  been 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  123 

entirely  formulated,  but  even  in  the  zone  of  coma 
the  brain  functions  in  a  weird  sort  of  way,  in- 
comprehensible to  the  victim,  but  remembered 
afterward — if  the  victim  survives." 

"Doctor  Benton  thinks  a  little  soft  music  from 
the  organ  might  be  helpful  in  bringing  her  out 
of  her  present  state.  Under  your  theory  it  might 
not  help,"  said  Villard.  "Would  you  experi- 
ment?" 

"Surely  I  would,"  exclaimed  Updyke,  "but  I'd 
soft  pedal  at  the  start.  As  I  understand  the 
situation  she  hasn't  opened  her  eyes  since  the 
accident,  therefore  I  would  go  slow  in  startling 
her  sensibilities  for  the  present." 

"I'm  going  to  make  a  confession,  Henry,  but 
don't  say  anything  to  the  doctor  about  it  when  he 
comes  in  shortly.  My  housekeeper  and  I  stood  by 
her  bedside  and  she  was  so  beautiful  I  said  to 
Mrs.  Bond,  *I  wish  she  would  open  her  eyes' — I 
hadn't  seen  them,  you  know,  although  I  had  held 
her  in  my  arms  for  awhile  just  after  the  acci- 
dent— and  all  the  way  home.  Well,  believe  it  or 
not,  I'll  be  switched  if  the  little  creature  didn't 
do  it — and  by  jinks — she  seemed  to  recognize 
me!" 


124  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Updyke  was  plainly  at  a  loss  to  account  for 
the  recognition. 

"Very  strange,  indeed,"  he  conceded  as  he  gave 
Villard  a  sharp  look.  "Sure  you  didn't  have  a 
little  brain  trouble  when  you  saw  those  bright 
eyes?"  laughed  Updyke.  "I  can't  account  for  her 
recognition  of  a  person  whom  she  had  never 
seen  or  heard  of  before." 

"Nevertheless,  what  I  say  is  bona  fide,  as  Mrs. 
Bond  will  attest.  She  saw  the  girl's  eyes  open, 
and  the  look  of  recognition — and  more,  the  girl 
smiled  at  me,  and  went  back  to  sleep.  Now,  old 
sleuth,  'what  do  you  make  of  that'? — as  Sherlock 
used  to  say." 

"Well,  let's  see  if  we  can  figure  it  out,"  re- 
plied Updyke  soberly.  "Why,  it's  perfectly  plain 
— the  message  from  your  dead  sweetheart,  and 
the  father  running  around  calling  his  girl  by 
name.  My  operative  phoned  me  the  circum- 
stances. He  saw  and  heard  everything." 

"You  are  right — as  usual.  I'll  have  to  buy  a 
medal  for  you,  but  for  the  present  I  am  going 
to  ask  you  to  look  at  her.  Sometimes  a  man  of 
your  experience  may  have  intuitions  that  doc- 
tors may  not  have.  Benton  was  here  on  his  sec- 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  125 

ond  visit  just  before  you  came,  and  is  coming 
back  again  to-night.  Parkins  is  in  very  bad 
shape,  so  he  is  giving  a  larger  share  of  attention 
to  him.  He  feels  sure  of  Winifred's  recovery 
and  is  not  uneasy  about  her.  Now  you  come 
with  me  and  tell  me  what  you  think  after  you've 
studied  her  face." 

"Lead  the  way,"  said  Updyke  as  they  ascended 
the  stairway. 

The  night  nurse  had  arrived,  and  she  came  to 
the  door,  as  the  two  men  looked  into  the  sick 
room.  She  glanced  up  inquiringly. 

"I  am  Mr.  Villard  and  this  is  Mr.  Updyke — a 
specialist  in  his  way.  I  want  him  to  look  at  the 
patient." 

"Come  in  please,"  invited  the  nurse.  "She  is 
still  asleep  and  I've  kept  the  night  lights  on  in 
order  that  she  shall  not  wake  up  in  too  much 
darkness. 

"Has  she  opened  her  eyes  since  you  came  on 
duty?"  asked  Updyke. 

"No — only  once  has  she  opened  them  I'm  told, 
and  then  only  to  close  them  again,"  was  the 
reply.  "That  happened  earlier  in  the  day.  Her 
father  was  in  several  times,  and  it  was  pitiful 


126  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

the  way  he  prayed  for  her  life.  I  just  couldn't 
help  crying." 

Updyke  went  over  to  the  bedside  and  bent  over 
the  white  face,  scrutinizing  it  carefully.  For 
nearly  a  minute  he  peered  steadily  at  the  eye- 
lids until  finally  his  patience  was  rewarded — 
they  twitched !  Noting  the  fact,  he  put  his  mouth 
close  to  her  ear  and  whispered  as  softly  as  his 
voice  would  carry — "Winifred,"  he  breathed — 
and  the  eyelids  fluttered. 

"Wonderful!"  whispered  the  nurse,  but  Up- 
dyke raised  his  hand  indicating  his  desire  for 
complete  silence. 

"It's  time  to  wake  up  little  girL — your  father 
wants  his  breakfast  and  the  booth  must  be  opened 
— it's  going  to  be  a  busy  day." 

Updyke's  voice,  gentle  at  first,  was  almost 
natural  in  tone  at  the  finish.  A  perceptible 
movement  of  the  hand  and  lips  indicated  that  her 
condition  was  not  so  serious  as  Villard  had 
feared,  and  his  solemn  face  became  radiant — but 
immediately  afterward,  glum,  when  Updyke 
said: 

"That's  all  for  the  present — she'll  wake  up 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  127 

naturally  bye  and  bye.  It's  dangerous  to  force 
the  issue." 

A  servant  bearing  a  message  suddenly  took 
both  men  out  of  the  sick  room — "Mr.  Updyke 
is  wanted  on  the  phone." 

An  operative  had  some  important  news  for 
him. 

"Have  put  Parkins'  valet  through  a  sweat  bath 
— got  everything  he  knew.  'Number  Nine'  was 
with  me  and  took  down  the  whole  story.  Shall  I 
shoot  it?" 

"Shoot"  replied  Updyke,  winking  at  Villard. 
Then  to  the  latter  he  said :  "He  is  going  to  give 
me  the  confession  of  Parkins'  valet — and  the 
valet  is  one  of  my  men." — "Go,  ahead — I  am 
listening,"  said  he,  as  he  removed  his  hand  from 
the  mouthpiece. 

"Here  goes,"  said  the  operative — "Parkins, 
drinking  heavily  as  he  got  himself  ready  for  a 
run  over  to  Long  Island  licked  up  two-thirds  of 
a  quart  of  straight  whisky  while  he  shaved, 
bathed,  and  dressed.  Had  been  brought  home  in 
Villard's  limousine  guarded  by  a  Jap.  Though 
jaded  he  didn't  try  to  sleep,  but  began  to  change 
his  clothes,  and  talked  to  himself  in  a  maudlin 


128  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

way.  The  valet  said  he  continually  referred  to 
a  poor  little  motherless  girl — who  evidently  lived 
on  Long  Island.  He  was  to  bring  the  girl  and 
her  father  to  New  York — neither  had  ever  been 
to  the  city — although  lifelong  residents  of  Long 
Island.  Parkins  talked  of  sending  'the  old  man/ 
meaning  the  father,  on  a  bus  ride  to  the  end  of 
the  line  and  back,  probably  for  the  purpose  of 
losing  him.  The  girl  was  to  stay  with  Parkins 
and  be  shown  the  town,  the  big  stores — tall  build- 
ings and  so  on,  with  a  probable  wind  up  at  dinner 
at  some  shady  joint.  While  Parkins  had  not 
actually  unfolded  his  intentions  toward  her,  the 
inference  was  that  he  would  see  that  she  took 
something  that  would  put  her  out  for  a  time. 
Nothing  indicated  as  to  the  father  after  the  ride 
on  the  bus — sequence  would  naturally  suggest 
that  he  would  be  allowed  to  drift.  What  do  you 
make  of  it?" 

"The  plan  seems  plausible  up  to  the  word  'se- 
quence,' replied  Updyke.  "Parkins  was  known 
to  the  girl's  father,  who  trusted  him.  He  could 
not  afford  to  let  the  old  man  drift  for  he  knew 
Parkins  by  name,  and  would  naturally  make  in- 
quiries. Parkins  could  not  have  risked  that. 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  129 

More  likely  he  would  take  the  girl  to  a  sporty  res- 
taurant, and  order  a  private  dining  room.  If 
possible  he  would  slip  something  into  the  coffee, 
or  whatever  he  got  her  to  drink.  Parkins  is  a 
damnable  villain,  and,  thank  God!  we  got  him 
before  he  had  a  chance  to  succeed !" 

Updyke,  whose  wrath  took  on  new  vigor,  fairly 
snorted  as  he  sensed  the  real  story. 

"Fve  got  a  'John  Doe'  on  the  valet,"  replied 
the  operative.  "Fifteen  is  in  charge  of  him,  here 
in  the  office.  What  shall  I  do  with  him?"  asked 
Number  Twelve. 

"Just  hold  him  over  night  in  one  of  the  rooms 
— it  might  be  risky  to  jail  him.  Make  him  feel 
at  home,  and  that  he  is  doing  us  a  great  favor, 
for  which  he  won't  lose  anything — see?  Bet- 
ter put  a  man  in  the  entrance  hall,  next  to  his 
room." 

"I  got  you — good  night,"  said  the  operative. 

"Good  night,  Twelve.  You've  done  a  big  stunt. 
See  you  to-morrow  afternoon  or  evening,"  re- 
plied the  chief,  turning  to  Villard  with  a  broad 
grin  on  his  face. 

Not  wishing  to  further  upset  Villard's  mind, 
he  said  that  the  information  was  second-hand, 


130  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

therefore  he  would  reserve  it  for  the  present.  Par- 
kins being  in  such  a  serious  condition  the  case 
might  be  settled  through  his  death.  Meanwhile, 
bad  off  as  he  was,  he  should  be  "watched  like  a 
hawk,"  and  any  attempt  at  escape  should  be 
balked  at  all  hazards.  The  evidence  of  the  valet 
was  conclusive,  but  always  there  loomed  the 
chance  of  newspaper  notoriety.  Therefore,  the 
necessity  of  great  care. 

"Now  we'll  make  a  call  on  Parkins,"  suggested 
Updyke,  to  which  Villard  agreed,  although  the 
doctor  was  overdue.  A  last  call  for  the  night  on 
Winifred  had  been  agreed  upon,  but  evidently  the 
case  over  at  Sawyer's  home  was  too  critical — per- 
haps an  operation  had  been  necessary. 

On  reaching  the  Sawyer  home  Updyke  and  Vil- 
lard were  informed  that  the  host  had  retired, 
but  that  Doctor  Benton  and  a  surgeon  from  New 
York  had  experimented  upon  Parkins,  and  were 
awaiting  results  which  might  call  for  a  more  dan- 
gerous operation  in  the  region  of  the  brain.  One 
of  the  two  nurses  had  volunteered  the  informa- 
tion. The  situation  was  grave. 

"I'd  rather  he  died  than  come  out  of  it  a 


HENRY  UPDYKE  DROPS  IN  131 

cripple  for  life,"  said  Villard,  as  they  strolled 
back  to  Dreamy  Hollow  in  a  roundabout  way. 

"Don't  worry  as  to  that — he  will  pull  through, 
and  the  more  crippled  he  is  the  more  dangerous 
he  will  become,"  said  Updyke.  "He  will  steal 
the  girl  one  of  these  days  if  you  are  not  ever- 
lastingly on  the  alert." 

From  that  thought  Villard,  who  saw  the  truth 
in  the  prophecy,  became  silent,  as  a  new  fear 
seized  his  heart.  By  every  means  in  his  power  he 
would  frustrate  such  an  eventuality,  and  with  his 
last  drop  of  blood  he  would  stand  between  the 
girl  and  the  evil  genius  whose  touch  would  defile, 
and  whose  snares  would  destroy.  Updyke,  "mind 
reader"  that  he  was,  had  just  grounds  for  plant- 
ing the  seed  of  everlasting  vigilance  in  Villard's 
brain. 

"There  is  an  old  saying  that  'it  takes  a  rogue 
to  catch  a  rogue,'  Drury,  and  I've  spent  years 
in  acquiring  a  rogue's  viewpoint.  Just  make  up 
your  mind  that  Parkins  can  never  assume  the 
role  of  a  saint,  except  as  a  subterfuge,  and  that 
every  hour  that  he  isn't  asleep,  he  is  dangerous." 

"I  place  the  whole  matter  in  your  hands, 
Henry.  I  have  not  the  wits  for  the  job,  and 


132  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

would  probably  lose  in  any  fight  against  any 
man  with  the  mind  of  a  crook,"  replied  Villard. 
The  worries  of  the  day  had  been  great  and 
rest  was  important  in  view  of  the  duties  of  to- 
morrow. A  peep  into  Winifred's  suite  found  the 
nurse  in  good  cheer.  The  sleep  of  the  patient  was 
more  normal,  and  signs  of  a  desire  to  awaken  had 
been  noted.  All  was  well,  as  the  two  men  took 
their  separate  ways  to  comfortable  beds  and  a 
well-earned  rest. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FORCES  BEYOND  THE   SKIES 

GLOOMY  days  followed  along  the  path  of  Drury 
Villard  during  the  week  succeeding  his  last  inter- 
view with  Updyke.  The  invalid  upstairs  was  in 
bed,  devoid  of  memory.  She  laughed,  talked,  sat 
up  in  bed,  or  in  a  perambulating  chair  was  taken 
out  among  the  flowers  and  trees  each  day.  She 
recognized  no  one  by  name,  not  even  her  father, 
whose  health  was  giving  away  under  the  strain. 
Her  talk  was  of  flowers  and  birds  by  day — and 
the  stars  by  night. 

"I'm  going  to  be  with  them  soon,"  said  she, 
gaily — referring  to  the  stars.  "My  mother  is  up 
there." 

"And  where  is  your  father?"  asked  Villard, 
trying  to  aid  her  memory. 

"I  don't  know — I'm  expecting  him  any  time," 
she  answered  eagerly,  and  Mr.  Barbour,  standing 
near  and  in  plain  sight,  turned  about  sadly  and 
walked  away.  His  child  no  longer  knew  him. 

133 


134  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Upon  this  situation,  he  brooded  in  silence.  He 
felt  himself  an  interloper  upon  the  hospitality 
of  a  man  he  did  not  know.  But  Villard,  far- 
seeing  and  well  disposed,  invited  him  to  stay  on 
and  gave  him  courage  to  do  so. 

"My  home  is  your  home,"  said  he.  "Some  day 
she  will  come  into  complete  recollection — and 
then,  if  my  hopes  are  fulfilled,  we  shall  become 
man  and  wife." 

"God  speed  the  day!"  exclaimed  Alexander 
Barbour  fervently.  "Everything  is  being  done 
for  her.  You  have  placed  us  under  great  obliga- 
tions." 

But  Villard  would  not  have  it  that  way. 

"The  good  fortune  is  all  mine,"  said  he,  em- 
phatically— "and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that 
she  will  become  my  wife,  even  if  I  am  some  years 
her  senior.  There  are  forces  beyond  the  skies 
that  are  working  out  my  salvation,  and  that  of 
your  daughter.  I  won't  go  into  the  matter  fur- 
ther than  to  say  that  I  am  sure  the  fates  are  on 
our  side.  When  all  is  settled,  you,  who  are  creep- 
ing on  in  age,  may  call  my  home  your  own.  You 
may  come  and  go  at  will — no  one  will  oppose 


FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES    135 

your  coming  or  your  going.  You  will  be  a  unit 
unto  yourself." 

Villard  was  never  cheerful  when  showered 
with  thanks.  When  the  older  man  tried  to  ex- 
press his  gratitude  the  master  of  Dreamy  Hollow 
simply  smiled  and  waved  his  hand.  A  few  min- 
utes later  he  stood  on  the  sands  of  his  private 
beach  and  watched  the  waves  as  they  swirled  and 
pounded  on  the  shore  line.  His  thoughts,  how- 
ever, were  far  away,  but  the  very  faith  he  put 
behind  them  turned  them  into  messages  to  his 
dead.  But  he  anticipated  no  word  in  reply.  His 
own  reasoning  counseled  him  that  the  new  Wini- 
fred had  released  the  old  from  further  strenuous 
effort  in  his  behalf. 

"It  is  myself  incarnate,  you  will  marry" — she 
had  told  him.  Then — "You  will  meet  her  soon." 

And  it  had  all  come  about  just  as  she  said, 
and  now  she  could  rest  forevermore  in  peace — 
the  darling  of  his  early  love !  Her  effort  at  self- 
effacement,  were  it  possible  to  erase  herself  from 
his  memory,  had  been  sublime,  but  to  her  rein- 
carnated soul  he  would  hinge  his  destiny  through 
the  instrumentality  of  Winifred  Barbour.  She 
had  now  become  the  Winifred  of  his  earlier  devo- 


136  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

tion,  and  he  would  lavish  his  love  as  a  true  man 
should — but  there  would  be  no  relaxation  of  his 
loyalty  to  the  memory  of  the  dear  one  gone  be- 
fore. 

"I  shall  always  revere  your  memory/'  he  had 
whispered  hoarsely.  "The  new  Winifred  will 
never  attempt  to  obscure  your  likeness  from  my 
heart.  Together  you  will  entwine  my  soul  and 
become  as  one  great  love.  Farewell  beloved.  Go 
to  thy  rest !" 

As  Villard  spoke  he  bared  his  head  and  stood 
quite  still.  Then,  as  he  walked  his  way  back 
he  quickened  his  pace,  but  halted  abruptly  as 
Alexander  Barbour  came  running  toward  him. 

"She's  all  right  again — her  mind  has  been  sud- 
denly restored !"  he  shouted. 

"The  Lord  be  praised !"  shouted  Villard  with  a 
glad  light  in  his  eyes.  Resuming  his  rapid  gait, 
he  left  Barbour  puffing  along,  behind. 

"And  she  has  asked  for  'Drury' — and  insists 
upon  seeing  him,"  panted  Barbour.  "How  could 
she  know  of  you?  I  tell  you,  sir,  it's  very 
strange!  She  has  always  lived  in  one  place. 
She  knows  nothing  of  your  helpfulness  in  rescu- 
ing her  from  the  wreck.  All  she  realizes  is  that 


FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES    137 

there  was  a  collision  and  that  she  has  waked  up 
in  a  palace.  She  seems  not  to  know  that  her 
memory  has  been  lost  since  the  accident." 

"When  did  this  change  take  place — and 
where?"  demanded  Villard,  soberly. 

"She  was  in  the  hammock  on  the  west  veranda 
— and  had  dozed  off  after  playing  like  a  little 
child  among  the  flowers." 

Villard  stood  quite  still  for  a  few  moments 
and  looked  up  into  the  skies.  Then  turning 
toward  Barbour  he  said : 

"A  miracle  has  taken  place  before  our  very 
eyes.  It  would  be  sacrilege  to  even  try  to  fathom 
such  mystery.  But  we  will  never  cease  to  thank 
that  Wonderful  Spirit  which  has  helped  your 
daughter  into  a  normal  condition.  Come  let  us 
hurry  along!"  he  commanded  of  the  mystified 
father,  after  the  fashion  of  those  born  to  rule. 

A  moment  more  and  Drury  Villard  stood  look- 
ing down  into  the  eyes  of  the  lovely  creature 
whom  God  had  sent  to  him — "to  have  and  to 
hold,  until  death  do  us  part." 

"Do  you  know  me,  little  woman?"  he  asked 
tenderly. 

"Yes,  you're  Mr.  Drury!" 


138  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Right — but  when  you  awoke  from  your  lapse 
of  memory  you  asked  for  'Drury' — and  that  is  my 
given  name,"  said  he,  his  eyes  twinkling. 

"Now  isn't  that  strange,  sir?  I  had  never 
heard  that  name  until  just  a  few  moments  ago. 
Of  course,  I  must  have  dreamed  it.  What  has 
happened  to  me,  and  my  father?  I  remember 
I  was  in  a  dreadful  accident — did  you  know  that? 
It  occurred  this  morning — where  am  I  now?  It 
seems  like  Heaven!"  said  she,  smiling  up  into 
Villard's  face. 

Their  eyes  met,  but  after  a  searching  glance, 
the  new  Winifred  withdrew  her  beautiful  gray- 
blue  orbs  from  the  contest  and  gazed  out  upon 
the  gardens  where  gay  flowers  bloomed  and  flit- 
ting birds  winged  their  way  from  tree  to  tree. 

"And  you  are  sure  that  you  have  quite  re- 
covered?" he  asked,  solicitously,  wondering 
whether  or  not  he  should  tell  her  of  the  real 
lapse  of  the  time  since  in  his  arms  he  had  borne 
her  to  his  home. 

"Oh,  entirely  so,  and  I  feel  so  grateful,  and  so 
fortunate.  I  am  sorry  indeed  to  be  wearing  bor- 
rowed clothing.  The  dress  I  wore  this  morning 
was  perfectly  new — the  first  time  I  had  worn 


FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES    139 

it.  We  were  going  to  the  big  city  and  I  was  so 
happy.  I  have  never  visited  New  York,  but  I'm 
satisfied  with  this  dreamland — only  it  will  be 
hard  to  come  back  to  earth,  all  in  one  short  day." 

Drury  Villard  smiled  at  the  thought,  and  re- 
leasing her  hand  he  drew  up  a  great  lounging 
settee  which  afforded  him  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Perhaps  I  should  tell  you  something  about 
the  accident,"  said  he,  looking  into  her  eyes  for 
consent. 

"Oh,  do — please!  I've  been  wondering — I 
seem  to  be  in  another  world,"  said  she,  dreamily. 

"To  begin  with,  you  have  been  here  several 
days,  much  to  our  delight,"  he  replied,  watching 
the  effect  of  his  words. 

"Indeed!"  she  exclaimed,  blushing  with  em- 
barrassment; "think  of  all  the  trouble  I've 
caused !" 

"But  we  haven't  been  troubled  in  the  least,  and 
we  have  grown  to  think  of  you  as  our  own,"  said 
Villard.  "I  have  asked  your  father  to  live  with 
us — we  are  so  lonesome  in  this  big  house.  I  love 
the  place,  but  at  times  it  is  so  dreary  that  I  lose 
myself  in  grief." 


140  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

The  eyes  of  the  new  Winifred  opened  wide  in 
sympathy. 

"You  must  have  had  a  deep  sorrow,"  said  she, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Indeed  that  is  true,  but  I  think  I  know  a  road 
to  happiness,"  he  replied,  tenderly.  "When  you 
grow  stronger  I  will  tell  you  what  I  mean.  But 
there  is  something  I  want  to  know  at  once — how 
did  you  guess  my  name?" 

"Oh — now  I  remember!  I  have  heard  your 
name — my  mother  sent  me  word.  She  talks  to 
me  quite  often." 

"Your  mother  is  dead,  is  she  not?"  queried 
Villard. 

"Yes,  on  earth,  but  now  she  lives  in  Heaven !" 
replied  the  girl,  simply.  "Winifred  told  her  to 
tell  me  that  there  would  be  an  accident  and 
that  Drury  would  aid — and — and " 

"Oh,  please  go  on,  dear  girl,  and  what?  Tell 
me  about  this  second  message." 

Villard's  great  strength  of  character  proved 
his  mastery  over  the  young  woman,  who,  awed  by 
his  commanding  voice,  had  no  power  to  refuse  his 
request. 

"But  it's  all  so  sacred !"  she  protested.    "Yet, 


FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES    141 

if  you  insist,  I  feel  that  I  must.  Don't  think  it 
unwomanly,  will  you?"  she  pleaded. 

"Never — I  promise  you  that,  on  my  sacred 
honor!"  replied  Villard,  fervently. 

Then  came  the  story  that  he  had  awaited  so 
eagerly — a  story  not  for  those  who  would  doubt, 
or  laugh  to  scorn,  but  for  those  who  believe  in 
a  life  to  come — the  life  everlasting.  Tears  gath- 
ered in  Winifred's  eyes  as  she  began  to  speak. 

"My  mother  came  to  me  Monday  night/'  said 
she,  tremulously.  "I  was  ready  to  retire  at  an 
early  hour  because  of  my  great  happiness  con- 
cerning my  first  trip  to  the  big  city.  I  had 
knelt  to  say  my  prayers,  when  suddenly  I  heard 
my  mother's  voice.  Although  I  have  had  frequent 
visits  from  her  I  never  actually  see  her.  Her 
voice,  which  I  so  dearly  love,  came  into  the  room 
and  called  to  me  by  name,  but  I  could  not  locate 
the  direction  from  whence  it  came.  So  I  bowed 
my  head  again,  and  waited.  Shortly  she  spoke, 
saying — 'There  will  be  an  accident,  my  child,  but 
no  real  harm  will  come  to  you — be  not  afraid. 
Tell  Drury  that  his  Winifred  wants  him  to  marry 
the  person  whom  he  saves  from  death.'  That  was 
all,  and  of  course  you  are  the  Mr.  Drury,  and  if 


142  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

you  were  instrumental  in  saving  a  woman  from 
death,  your  Winifred  wants  you  to  marry  her." 

Villard  struggled  with  his  emotions  after 
Winifred  Barbour  had  bared  the  great  secret  he 
so  longed  to  unravel,  while  she,  in  sympathy, 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed.  Vil- 
lard's  mood  was  so  like  her  own  that  he  dared  not 
try  to  comfort  her.  He  had  no  words  with  which 
to  soothe,  nor  power  to  check  the  sorrow  and  joy 
that  mingled  within  his  own  bosom.  He  simply 
stood  by,  resolutely  restraining  his  emotion,  until 
he  had  mastered  it — then  walked  away  until  the 
new  Winitred  had  composed  herself. 

On  his  return  he  lifted  her  into  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  beautiful  dark 
brown  hair. 

"You  are  my  Winifred,  now,"  he  whispered, 
hoarsely.  "God  has  willed  it  so — and  your  dear 
mother  in  Heaven  has  sanctioned  it.  My  dead 
Winifred  is  yourself,  incarnate.  I  shall  keep  and 
guard  you  during  all  of  my  remaining  days  on 
earth.  You  will  become  mistress  of  Dreamy  Hol- 
low, and  we  will  share  all  blessings  as  long  as  we 
each  shall  live." 

Taken  by  storm,  Winifred's  eyes  opened  wide 


FORCES  BEYOND  THE  SKIES    143 

in  astonishment,  but  she  made  no  answer.  If 
in  her  secret  heart  she  had  ever  thought  of  a  mar- 
riage proposal,  it  was  not  of  the  kind  that  had 
just  been  spoken.  But  Villard  was  a  law  unto 
himself  and  he  took  Winifred's  hand  into  his 
own,  and  together  they  strolled  along  the  wooded 
path  leading  toward  the  ever  wonderful  beach. 
This  path  was  seldom  used  because  of  its  density 
of  foliage  and  the  low  hung  branches  of  the  trees 
and  bushes.  At  last  they  came  upon  the  sands 
where  the  waters  pounded  and  the  roar  of  the 
sea  beyond  the  bar  spoke  messages  from  far  away 
lands. 

And  there  they  halted,  each  mind  in  deep  con- 
templation of  the  other,  while  gazing  far  out 
where  the  blue  sky  and  the  waters  of  the  deep 
merged  with  the  shadows  of  a  waning  day.  As 
yet  the  answer  had  not  been  spoken,  but  the  love 
of  the  man  was  fast  winning  the  heart  of  the  girl. 
The  verdict  seemed  not  far  away. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  NUESE  TAKES  A  CHANCE 

PARKINS'  escape  from  death  owed  itself  to  a 
surgeon's  skill,  the  operation  upon  his  head  hav- 
ing been  successful.  Now  he  sat  up  in  bed,  after 
seven  days  at  the  Sawyer  home.  He  talked  very 
little,  but  the  furtive  roving  of  his  eyes  during 
his  wakeful  hours  denoted  his  mental  activity. 
Aside  from  the  injuries  to  his  head,  all  harmful 
results  had  disappeared.  The  wound  on  his  scalp 
was  rapidly  closing  up,  and  according  to  the  sur- 
geon, would  never  be  noticed,  owing  to  the  dense 
growth  of  his  hair.  Koached  back  and  parted 
nearer  the  middle,  the  wound  would  be  obscured. 
According  to  both  doctors,  another  week  would 
find  him  strong  enough  to  walk  about  the 
grounds,  but  Parkins  secretly  knew  that  he  had 
plenty  strength  with  which  to  escape.  He  had 
no  way  of  knowing  Villard's  views  concerning 
him,  but  he  was  aware  that  Updyke  only  visited 
places  where  something  unusual  was  going  on. 

144 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  145 

He  could  feel  without  seeing  the  Villard  satel- 
lites— minions  of  the  law! — they  were  unremit- 
ting. So  far  as  they  could  prevent  there  would 
be  no  chance  for  his  escape. 

One  thing  Parkins  had  done  well.  He  had 
made  a  fast  friend  of  his  day  nurse.  By  degrees 
he  had  won  her  confidence,  until  finally  he  asked 
her  if  she  would  not  prefer  a  good  salary  as  his 
housekeeper  rather  than  slave  on  as  a  nurse. 

"I'd  go  mad  with  such  work  on  my  hands," 
said  he.  "Only  the  faithfulness  of  kind-hearted 
women  toward  those  who  suffer  makes  life  worth 
living.  How  much  do  you  average  per  week?" 
he  inquired  abruptly. 

"Oh,  it's  hard  to  tell,  all  owing  to  circum 
stances.  In  order  to  get  anything  like  steady 
work  I  have  to  take  what  the  doctors  offer.  Some 
weeks  I  scarcely  make  anything— other  weeks 
twenty-five  dollars,  and  sometimes  fifty.  Last 
year  my  weekly  average  was  a  little  over  twenty 
dollars.  I  could  hardly  make  ends  meet,"  she 
concluded. 

"Well,  I  should  think  as  much!"  exclaimed 
Parkins,  with  a  frown  at  the  ways  of  humanity. 
"How  would  you  like  to  become  housekeeper  for 


146  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

me  at  fifty  dollars  a  week,  with  all  you  can  eat, 
and  a  Christmas  present  for  good  measure?" 

"Are  you  married?"  she  asked  as  if  doubtful 
upon  that  point. 

"No,  not  yet,  but  I'm  soon  to  be  married — and 
to  the  sweetest  little  lady  in  the  land.  We  would 
have  been  married  now  but  for  the  accident.  We 
were  on  our  way  to  New  York,  eloping,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  although  her  father  was  along. 
We  were  going  to  surprise  him  by  suddenly  going 
to  The  Little  Church  Around  the  Corner,  and 
with  him  as  a  witness,  have  the  ceremony  per- 
formed. He  would  have  been  delighted,"  said 
Parkins,  with  enthusiasm. 

"Surely  he  would — and  a  lovely  surprise,  in- 
deed !"  replied  the  nurse,  gaily.  "Was  she  hurt 
very  badly  ?" 

"No,  just  shocked,  I  gather  from  listening  to 
the  doctors.  She's  out  and  around,  and  the  place 
she  is  stopping  is  beautiful — just  look  out  of  that 
west  window  into  those  grounds.  See  the  big 
white  mansion  through  the  opening?  Well,  the 
man  that  owns  that  home  is  many  times  a  mil- 
lionaire, and  I  am  Vice  President  of  the  com- 
pany in  which  he  made  all  his  money." 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  147 

"You  don't  say !"  exclaimed  the  nurse. 

"Yes,  he  is  the  one  who  picked  us  up  after  the 
wreck — he  and  Mr.  Sawyer  were  out  for  a  drive. 
Villard  took  the  girl  to  his  home  and  I  was 
brought  here.  The  doctor  said  it  would  be  best 
not  to  have  two  invalided  people  in  the  same 
house." 

"Well,  that's  a  fact,  especially  when  they  are 
so  close  to  one  another,"  replied  the  nurse, 
thoughtfully.  "But  it  won't  be  long  before  you 
will  be  ready  to  go  your  way.  Of  course  you  will 
take  the  little  sweetheart  along." 

"Your  last  cent  can  go  on  that,"  replied  Par- 
kins. "But  we're  going  to  fool  them,  just  the 
same,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  out  of  this — and  I'm 
almost  ready  now.  We  are  going  to  elope,  and 
this  time  her  father  will  be  none  the  wiser  until 
it's  all  over.  He  is  pretty  much  broken  up  over 
the  accident,  but  the  home  he  is  in  is  a  dream, 
so  he'll  be  happy  there  until  we  come  back  for 
him — See?  He  knows  I'm  rich,  and  that  I  have  a 
big  standing  in  the  business  world." 

"How  will  you  manage  so  grave  a  matter  as  an 
elopement?"  inquired  the  nurse,  soberly. 

"I'll  think  it  out — oh,  now  that  you  are  going 


148  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to  be  our  housekeeper,  and  all  that,  you  can  help 
us  easily,  and  no  one  will  ever  know  it,"  con- 
cluded the  patient,  his  face  lighting  up  as  if  in- 
spired. 

Parkins  knew  how  to  smile,  and  to  appear  the 
soul  of  honor.  The  nurse,  Mrs.  Duke  by  name,  as 
given  to  him  by  Dr.  Benton  when  he  introduced 
her,  at  once  approved  him. 

"I  might  be  helpful,  and  would  be  willing  to 
aid,  but  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  left  here  to  be 
blamed  for  it,"  said  she  soberly. 

"Why,  that's  easy  to  avoid,"  said  Parkins. 
"During  your  daily  exercise,  manage  to  meet  her, 
and  get  acquainted.  But  don't  tell  her  of  our 
plans,  because  she  is  a  nervous  little  soul  and 
might  see  difficulties  in  the  way.  Naturally  she'd 
want  her  father  along,  but  that  would  spoil  the 
elopement,"  said  the  patient,  with  a  sly  wink. 

"I  see  that  clearly,  but  what  about  me?  I " 

"I  was  just  going  to  tell  you  what  to  do.  First, 
get  acquainted  with  her,  and  on  a  certain  day  I'll 
have  a  car  waiting  at  a  certain  place  near  by.  As 
you  walk  along  with  her  you  could  suggest  a 
pretty  place  you'd  like  to  have  her  see.  When 
she  arrives  there  the  car  will  be  waiting,  and  you 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  149 

and  my  sweetheart  will  jump  in,  and  away  you'll 
go.  Meanwhile,  as  the  car  passes  this  place  I 
will  be  where  I  can  jump  in  and  become  manager 
of  the  affair." 

"I'm  so  afraid  of  anything  like  that!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Duke.  "We  might  be  arrested." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  Nothing  of  the  kind.  She's  of 
age — she  loves  me — and  we  are  going  to  be  mar- 
ried! The  only  thing  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  the 
old  bachelor  who  owns  the  place  where  she  is  now 
might  want  to  marry  her,  and  she  is  so  sweet  and 
obliging,  her  father  might  coax  her  into  marriage 
with  this  man  Villard,"  explained  Parkins. 

"Villard!  Is  that  his  place?"  asked  the  nurse, 
sharply  as  she  again  looked  out  upon  the  beauti- 
ful home. 

"Yes,  it's  worth  a  couple  of  millions,  including 
the  land  and  beach  property,"  replied  the  patient. 

"Why,  he  was  the  man  over  here  last  night, 
was  he  not?" 

"That  was  Drury  Villard.  You  saw  how 
friendly  he  was  with  me,  and  how  concerned  he 
was  about  my  condition,  and  everything." 

"Yes,  indeed,  a  fine  looking  man — but  too  old 
for  that  sweet  little  girl,"  said  the  nurse,  shaking 


150  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

her  head  in  deprecation  of  even  the  thought  of 
such  a  match.  "He  may  be  a  nice  man,  and  all 
that,  and  seems  kindly,  but  an  old  man's  love  is 
no  love  at  all,  so  I'm  going  to  help  the  girl  to 
escape  such  a  fate,"  she  concluded,  shaking  her 
head  as  she  meant  it. 

"And  if  you  do,  I'll  give  you  one  thousand  dol- 
lars in  cash!"  whispered  Parkins,  as  the  nurse 
looked  into  his  eyes. 

They  held  true,  disclosing  not  the  least  appear- 
ance of  deceit.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Duke  nodded 
her  head  affirmatively. 

"I'll  do  it,"  she  said,  "and  if  you  don't  mind,  I 
am  going  out  for  a  little  fresh  air" — all  of  which 
was  accompanied  by  a  knowing  smile — the  smile 
of  a  skillful  accomplice. 

To  Mrs.  Duke  a  millionaire  was  a  living  crime. 
Want,  perpetually  barking  at  her  heels,  gave  her 
no  charity  of  feeling  toward  the  rich  man — his 
kith  or  his  kin.  She  likened  such  men  to  a  huge 
net  stretched  across  the  river  of  life  to  which 
human  souls  were  drawn  unerringly  by  man- 
made  currents,  until  caught  in  the  meshes  and 
held  in  despair.  Naught  but  death  could  come  to 
their  rescue. 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  151 

To  her,  the  knowledge  that  a  man  of  William 
Parkins'  goodness  of  heart  could  be  accounted  a 
chattel  of  the  great  Villard  was  unthinkable.  As 
she  walked  along  among  rare  trees  and  flowered 
bushes  her  heart  turned  cold  and  her  eyes  dilated 
indignation  at  the  inequality  of  human  destinies. 
Had  she  but  known  the  man,  his  kindly  nature, 
his  open  purse,  and  great  benefactions,  her 
hatred  of  Drury  Villard  would  have  been  turned 
into  admiration.  Good  woman  that  she  was,  her 
intuition  had  failed  her  in  her  estimate  of  Par- 
kins' veracity.  She  had  yet  to  learn  the  deprav- 
ity of  the  man,  who,  by  the  mere  use  of  five  magic 
words — "one  thousand  dollars  in  cash" — had 
won  her  hatred  toward  the  best  friend  he  ever 
had. 

So  far  as  Mrs.  Duke  was  concerned  it  was 
easy  to  meet  up  with  Winifred  Barbour.  The 
girl  loved  to  look  upon  the  waters  of  the  bay,  and 
during  her  convalescing  days  she  sat  for  hours 
on  the  sands  of  the  beach  and  breathed  the  ozone 
borne  in  upon  the  breezes  from  the  great  Atlantic. 
She  had  wondered  about  Parkins,  still  bedfast, 
but  no  inkling  had  come  to  her  ears  of  his  per- 
fidious intentions  toward  herself.  No  gentleman 


152  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

of  Villard's  high  ideals  would  have  failed  to 
shield  the  innocent  young  woman  from  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  perfidy  of  the  man — but  the  nurse 
had  not  been  taken  into  account. 

Mrs.  Duke  instinctively  knew  Winifred  at  first 
glance.  There  she  was  seated  upon  the  sands, 
gracefully  poised  and  tossing  pebbles  into  the 
waves. 

"Why,  bless  me! — aren't  you  Winifred  Bar- 
bour  of  Patchogue?"  inquired  Mrs.  Duke,  smil- 
ing down  upon  the  girl. 

"Yes,  that  is  my  name,  and  Patchogue  is  my 
home.  Won't  you  sit  down  and  listen  to  the 
roaring  tide  coming  in?  I  adore  the  splashing  of 
the  waves!  I  do  not  remember  meeting  you  be- 
fore," she  added,  as  if  in  apology. 

"Indeed,  I  will  sit  down — it  is  such  a  charming 
spot.  You  would  hardly  remember  me,  for  I  left 
Patchogue  years  ago,  when  you  were  a  very  sweet 
little  girl.  I  begin  to  recall  your  features.  I  am 
Mrs.  Duke." 

"Do  you  live  in  this  vicinity,  Mrs.  Duke?" 
asked  Winifred,  politely. 

"No,  indeed,  sorry  as  I  am  to  say  it.  I'm  too 
poor  for  that — I  am  at  Mr.  Sawyer's  at  present," 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  153 

said  she,  as  if  it  didn't  matter  particularly 
where  she  was. 

"Oh,  indeed!     Some  one  ill  there?" 

"Yes,  but  improving  very  fast.  It's  a  man, 
thank  goodness — a  brave  man,  too.  I  seem  to 
prefer  to  nurse  a  man,  for  they  are  so  much 
more  patient  than  women.  Not  so  delicate,  you 
know,  and  they  have  more  fortitude.  But  I  must 
confess  I've  nursed  women,  too,  who  were  re- 
markable !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Duke.  "Do  you  live 
hereabouts?"  she  asked  in  a  naive  sort  of  way. 

"No,  I  still  live  in  Patchogue,"  replied  Wini- 
fred, dreamily.  "It  is  so  beautiful  here,  almost 
like  heaven.  I  wonder  if  one  could  always  be 
happy  with  every  craving  of  the  heart  entirely 
satisfied?" 

"Positively  not,  unless  the  right  man  is  at 
hand.  The  man  I'm  nursing  now  is  such  a  gentle- 
man !  Oh,  dear — a  week  or  so,  and  away  he  goes 
to  his  home  of  plenty,  while  I  go  back  to  my  poor 
little  tenement.  Rents  are  so  awful,  aren't 
they?" 

"We  have  never  rented — father  and  mother 
always  owned  a  little  home,  and  since  she  died, 
we've  continued  to  live  there.  I  love  the  little 


154  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

place!"  said  Winifred,  looking  far  out  beyond 
the  bay. 

"Of  course  you  do,  my  dear  child,"  purred  Mrs. 
Duke,  arising  to  go  back  to  her  charge.  "I  hope 
I'll  meet  you  here  to-morrow,  Miss  Barbour, 
when  I  come  out  for  my  airing.  It's  desperately 
trying  to  have  no  one  to  talk  to." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Duke,  I'll  try  to  be  on  hand," 
was  Winifred's  reply,  as  the  nurse  sighed  and 
arose  to  go. 

"That's  a  dear — you  can't  imagine  the  dreari- 
ness of  a  life  like  mine,"  sighed  the  nurse,  turn- 
ing to  go. 

On  hearing  Mrs.  Duke's  story,  Parkins'  mind 
fairly  sizzled  with  plans.  It  was  a  case  of  now 
or  never  so  far  as  Winifred  was  concerned.  He 
figured  that  no  matter  how  much  she  might  be 
frightened  at  the  plans  he  had  in  mind,  that  she 
would  calm  down,  once  she  saw  how  much  he 
really  cared  for  her — and  the  risk  he  took  to 
save  her  from  the  fate  of  becoming  the  bride  of 
a  man  so  many  years  her  senior. 

"Youth  for  the  young — age  cannot  hold  out 
against  it,"  he  soliloquized.  "Now  for  a  plan  of 
action,"  said  he,  in  lowered  voice,  to  Mrs.  Duke. 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  155 

"Take  these  memorandums,  please,"  he  whis- 
pered, reaching  under  the  top  mattress.  "Kead 
them  carefully,  and  by  all  means  live  up  to  them. 
Go  to  your  room  and  lock  yourself  in  while  you 
memorize  each  item  of  the  plan.  Now  is  the 
time — quick!"  he  whispered,  his  eyes  afire  with 
suppressed  excitement. 

Mrs.  Duke  was  amazed  at  the  skill  of  her  pa- 
tient. She  read  the  pages  thrice  over,  each  time 
in  a  whispered  monotone,  her  lips  moving 
rapidly.  The  instructions  read : 

1.  During  your  afternoon  walk,  go  to  tele- 
phone booth  in  Murray's  Wayside  Lunch  Room — 
half  a  mile  east,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Motor 
Parkway. 

2.  Call  up  Daniel  McGonigal — Murray  Hill 
10011 — be  sure  that  you  talk  to  Dan — no  one 
else — tell  him  who  you  are,  and  whom  you  repre- 
sent.   Also  tell  him  about  the  accident. 

3.  Read  him  the  note  addressed  to  him. 

4.  If  he  seems  uncertain  tell  him  its  $500  if 
successful;  |250  if  we  lose. 

5.  He  is  to  have  a  high-power  limousine  at 
the  beach  end  of  the  private  road  on  the  east 
hedge  line  of  the  Sawyer  home — to-morrow  morn- 


156  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

ing  at  eleven  sharp — with  instructions  to  take  on 
two  women — if  not  there  to  wait  one  honr — then 
go  home.  You  will  be  the  other  woman. 

6.  The  driver  to  be  accompanied  by  a  uni- 
formed assistant  who  will  sit  beside  him  unless 
you  need  him  inside — if  there  is  a  struggle. 

7.  You  will  meet  the  girl  at  the  beach  on  your 
morning  walk,  same  as  to-day.     If  she  doesn't 
show  up  within  an  hour — come  back. 

8.  If  she  comes,  suggest  a  walk,  east  along  the 
beach — for  fine  view  of  wonderful  gardens — not 
to  be  seen  in  any  other  way. 

9.  My  room  faces  right  for  full  observation — 
I  will  be  in  readiness  to  escape,  and  will  be  at 
the  Parkway  corner  by  the  time  the  car  arrives. 
If  I  fail,  go  on  without  me  to  Herman's — the 
chauffeur  will  know. 

10.  Reassure  the  girl — soothe  her — tell  her 
of  my  great  love — and  don't  forget  the  $1000  you 
will  receive — if  successful ! 

Thus  was  disclosed  to  Mrs.  Duke  the  processes 
of  the  Parkins'  mind,  and — "Wonderful !" — that 
was  her  thought  as  she  tucked  the  instructions 
in  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  She  gloried  in  the  part 
she  was  to  take  in  defeating  the  purpose  of  the 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  157 

rich  Villard — and  later  on — when  taking  her 
fresh  air  ramble  she  walked  into  the  booth  at 
Murray's  and  telephoned  McGonigal. 

At  first  he  refused  the  job,  but  finally  relented 
upon  the  grounds  of  old  friendship.  The  price 
was  too  low  for  the  job,  even  if  it  turned  out 
to  be  a  mere  elopement.  He  very  much  doubted 
that  version,  for  he  knew  Parkins  too  well.  But 
Mrs.  Duke  succeeded  in  every  way  and  arrived 
back  in  the  sick  room  with  triumphant  eyes  and 
a  thumping  heart. 

"You  have  served  me  well!"  said  Parkins, 
patting  the  hand  she  laid  on  his  forehead  in 
search  of  fever. 

There  was  none,  whereat  her  eyes  beamed  with 
delight, 

"To-morrow,"  he  continued,  "is  a  fateful  day 
for  both  of  us.  It  means  joy  or  sorrow.  I'm  put- 
ting all  of  the  'eggs  in  one  basket' — we  must  win 
or  die!  Villard  is  not  asleep!  Neither  is  Up- 
dyke !  They  think  I'm  too  ill  to  try  anything — 
so  we  will  show  them  a  thing  or  two." 

"I'll  help  you  against  that  money  shark  to 
my  dying  breath,"  replied  the  nurse,  her  eyes 
envenomed  with  hatred  for  such  as  he.  "The  girl 


158  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

is  yours — you  saw  her  first,  and  no  doubt  she 
loves  you.  I'll  see  that  you  get  her,  too!"  whis- 
pered the  nurse  with  emphasis. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  on  the  following 
day,  around  the  hour  of  eleven,  Parkins  looked 
out  upon  Great  South  Bay  from  a  window  in  a 
servant's  chamber  of  Dr.  Sawyer's  home  and 
what  he  saw  thrilled  him  to  the  marrow  of  his 
bones.  There  they  were,  two  women,  easily 
recognizable,  strolling  leisurely  along  the  shore 
line,  stopping  now  and  then  to  admire  the  beauty 
of  the  landscape.  A  closed  car  stood  off  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  so  at  the  foot  of  the  east  line  road. 
One  last  sweep  of  his  eyes  and  Parkins  ran  to 
his  room  and  tore  off  the  bath  robe  and  pajamas, 
thus  displaying  the  fact  that  he  was  all  dressed 
and  ready  for  action. 

One  hour  later  the  Sawyer  telephone  rang  and 
Villard's  excited  voice  shouted  for  the  master, 
who  came  forward  forthwith. 

"This  is  Villard,  Dr.  Sawyer.  Have  you  seen 
Winifred?" 

The  voice,  while  familiar,  hardly  matched  that 
of  the  owner  of  Dreamy  Hollow. 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  159 

"Not  since  yesterday — what  is  the  matter? 
Anything  wrong?" 

"She's  missing — can't  be  found  on  the  premi- 
ses— searched  everywhere — all  hands  joining. 
We  are  simply  groping  in  a  blind  alley.  She 
walked  over  toward  the  beach  about  ten  o'clock, 
according  to  Jerry,  but  that  is  the  last  thing 
known  of  her.  He  thinks  the  Parkins'  nurse 
went  over  that  way  a  few  minutes  afterward. 
Go  up  in  his  room,  please,  and  see  if  the  nurse 
has  returned." 

Villard's  voice  was  husky  and  impatient,  but 
when  Sawyer  returned  and  reported  that  neither 
Parkins  nor  nurse  was  to  be  found,  and  that  a 
bath  robe  lay  on  the  floor — also  sleeping  gar- 
ments— his  voice  roared  with  anger. 

"Where  is  Updyke's  man?"  he  shouted,  stifling 
the  ominous  forebodings  that  were  boring  in 
upon  his  brain. 

"I'll  see — hold  the  wire — and  keep  steady. 
Calm  yourself,  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  said 
Sawyer. 

It  was  a  long  drawn-out  minute,  but  the  situa- 
tion was  clear.  Updyke's  operative  had  looked 
in  on  Parkins  at  ten  minutes  of  eleven.  The 


160  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

nurse  was  out  for  a  walk.  He  came  back  and 
sat  down  on  the  west  corner  of  the  front  ver- 
anda, and  at  ten  minutes  after  eleven  returned 
and  found  that  the  room  was  empty.  The  opera- 
tive's first  act  was  to  inform  the  New  York 
office  from  an  outside  phone,  at  Murray's,  not  a 
minute  from  the  Sawyer  home — by  motorcycle. 
He  was  now  carrying  out  Updyke's  personal 
orders,  which  were — "Stick  around  until  I  phone 
you !" 

One  thing  that  had  a  bearing  on  the  case  was 
Dr.  Benton's  talk  with  Parkins,  earlier  in 
the  morning.  The  Updyke  man  was  in  the  sick 
room  at  the  time  the  doctor  made  his  call  and 
heard  everything  that  was  said.  Parkins  pleaded 
to  be  allowed  to  take  a  walk  in  the  garden.  The 
doctor  opposed  the  idea,  and  stated  that  the  pa- 
tient could  not  walk  a  hundred  feet  without 
falling  in  a  heap.  Also,  that  another  week  in 
bed  was  necessary  before  making  an  attempt. 
It  was  now  quite  evident  that  Parkins  had  been 
"playing  'possum,"  and  had  succeeded  in  fool- 
ing the  doctor  by  his  apparent  weakness  of  voice, 
as  he  plead  for  out-of-door  exercise. 

"That's  him  all  over!"  panted  Villard,  as  the 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  161 

particulars  of  the  escape  came  to  an  end.  "I'll 
talk  with  Updyke — that's  all  I  can  do.  I'll  see 
you  later  and  let  you  know  what  I  find  out.  Your 
help  has  been  bully,  as  usual.  Always  grateful 
— see  you  later,"  said  he,  banging  the  receiver 
into  place. 

For  a  moment  Villard  stood  mutely,  with 
hands  locked  and  eyes  shut.  Then,  with  the 
rage  of  a  lion  he  sprang  into  action.  Updyke's 
office  was  phoned,  and  "The  Big  Fellow"  was  on 
deck. 

"I  thought  I'd  be  hearing  from  you  pretty 
soon,"  said  he,  in  reply  to  Villard's  ring.  "Don't 
worry — Sawyer's  butler  is  one  of  my  men — he 
got  fooled  the  same  as  the  rest  of  you.  It  shows 
that  Parkins  has  more  brains  than  one  certain 
operative.  I  know  one  who  is  going  to  get  shang- 
haied. The  doctor's  pessimism  as  to  Parkins  con- 
dition in  the  presence  of  my  man  simply  threw 
him  off  his  balance." 

"Never  mind  the  story,  old  boy.  You  did  your 
best,  but  my  Winifred  is  gone!  She  is  in  the 
hands  of  a  villain!"  shouted  Villard. 

"Well,  keep  your  shirt  on,  old  chap.  Raving 
doesn't  get  you  anywhere.  My  man  got  the  news 


162  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to  me  before  you  knew  anything  had  happened 
— or  Sawyer  either.  What  more  do  you  expect 
in  an  instant?" 

The  growl  in  Updyke's  voice  was  becoming 
noticeable,  as  Villard  started  in  to  apologize. 

"I'm  just  about  crazy — don't  mind  what  I  say. 
What  else" — but  Updyke  ignored  the  interrup- 
tion. 

"I'm  making  no  promises,  but  I'm  expecting 
quick  results,"  he  continued.  "Parkins  is  still  on 
the  Island,  and  the  big  limousine  from  McGoni- 
gle's  garage  isn't  a  racing  machine.  It  can't  take 
to  the  woods  like  a  small  car  unless  there  is  an 
accomplice  who  knows  the  way.  I  hare  twelve 
motorcycle  men  out  on  the  job,  and  three  high- 
speed roadsters.  Every  ranger  that  can  be 
reached  by  the  Chief  Forester  will  assist,  and 
many  secret  service  men  are  already  alert.  I 
expect  to  hear  news  any  moment." 

" Where  do  you  think  he  will  head  for?"  in- 
quired Villard. 

"I  don't  think — I  know  where  he  is  going — but 
I  don't  know  when  he  will  get  there?  I'm  not 
going  to  tell  you  now,  anyhow.  You'd  go  up  in 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  163 

the  air  like  a  balloon,"  said  Updyke  with  empha- 
sis. 

"Then  tell  me  how  you  know  he  is  going  to  a 
certain  place.  That  will  help  some.  You  can 
see  that  I  am  almost  crazy !" 

"Well,  then,  brace  up  and  listen.  I  called  up 
McGonigle  and  asked  him  where  Parkins  was 
going  in  his  big  limousine  and  he  fell  for  it.  He 
stuttered,  and  hemmed  and  hawed,  until  I 
shouted  a  real  message  into  his  ear.  I  said,  'Talk 
quick  or  you  will  be  in  a  hurry-up  wagon  on  your 
way  to  police  headquarters !  That's  what  did  the 
business." 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

"My  God !  On  what  grounds  can  I  be  treated 
in  such  a  manner,  he  came  back  to  me,  but  his 
voice  was  broken.  I  had  him  all  right,  and  he 
knew  I  had  him.  So  I  answered  back — 'Be- 
cause you're  an  accomplice,  and  by  turning  in  evi- 
dence that  will  help  convict  Parkins  you  will 
soften  the  charge  against  yourself/  Then  I  said 
I'd  help  him,  most  probably,  but  he  must  first 
tell  me  the  story  from  beginning  to  end,  or  shift 
for  himself." 

"Terrible !"  sighed  Villard.    "And  he  had  sold 


164  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

himself  to  a  counterfeit  gentleman!  I  always 
thought  well  of  McGonigle.  I've  known  him  for 
years." 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  he  told  me 
everything — how  Parkins'  nurse  had  called  him 
up,  and  told  him  of  the  plan,  which  was  spoken 
of  as  an  elopement,  offering  five  hundred  for  a 
successful  venture,  and  two-fifty  in  any  event. 
Regarding  Parkins  as  a  rich  man,  and  sporty,  he 
took  the  offer.  Now  here  is  the  real  joker  in  the 
pack,  and  it  shows  that  luck  is  still  with  me," 
laughed  Updyke. 

"Let's  hear  it,"  said  Villard,  in  a  voice  less 
restrained. 

"I  had  another  matter  on  my  slate  having  to 
do  with  McGonigle's  garage,  so  I  had  sent  one  of 
my  men  over  to  apply  for  a  job.  He  entered  the 
place  and  found  Mac  all  worked  up  because  a 
man  he  had  depended  on  to  go  out  on  a  swell 
limousine  job  hadn't  shown  up.  The  upshot 
of  it  was  that  he  took  on  my  man  and  gave  him  a 
uniform  to  put  on — one  of  the  regular  chauffeur 
turnouts.  That's  why  I  know  that  we're  going  to 
get  Parkins,  and  get  him  soon." 

"Henry,  you  are  a  wonder! — what  is  the  next 


THE  NURSE  TAKES  A  CHANCE  165 

step?"  demanded  Villard,  chuckling  in  spite  of 
his  fears. 

"The  next  step  is  for  you  to  go  and  sit  down 
with  your  morning  papers/'  shouted  Updyke. 
"I've  got  other  phones  waiting  on  me." 

"Just  one  thing  more — tell  me  where  he's  tak- 
ing her,"  begged  Villard. 

"What's  the  use?    He  won't  get  her  there?" 

"Tell  me  anyhow — I'm  stronger  when  I  know 
the  worst,"  pleaded  Villard. 

Updyke  hesitated.  He  loathed  the  thought  of 
letting  his  friend  know  the  truth.  But  finally, 
in  a  rasping  voice,  almost  choking  with  the  rage 
that  he  had  been  trying  to  conceal,  Updyke  re- 
plied : 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  the  car  started  for 
Herman's  Road  House — otherwise  known  as 
"The  Mad  House." 

With  that  Updyke  threw  his  receiver  on  the 
hook,  and  asked  his  switch-board  operator  for  the 
call  next  in  line — but  he  was  more  than  furious 
with  himself  for  having  yielded  to  Villard's  en- 
treaty. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MARY   JOHNSON 

"No  news"  reports  coming  in  from  operatives, 
and  new  instructions  going  out  from  "the  old 
man"  himself,  was  the  routine  of  Updyke's  office 
for  the  next  hour.  Mary  Johnson,  his  secretary, 
of  only  a  few  months'  experience,  came  timidly 
over  to  his  desk  and  asked  if  he  had  looked  over 
the  Parkins  record  during  the  past  month  or  so. 

"I  think  there  were  some  notations  made  by 
Miss  Carew  just  before  she  left,"  said  she. 

"Bring  it,"  snapped  Updyke,  abstractedly. 
Then  as  the  girl  turned  to  go  he  called  her  back. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  been  cross  with  you,  little 
woman,  but  you'll  forgive  me  I  know.  This  is  a 
bad  case,  and  every  moment  is  precious.  Hurry 
back  with  the  report,"  said  he,  smiling  into  her 
alert  blue  eyes. 

On  her  return  he  seized  the  record  eagerly,  and 
the  girl  bent  over  his  shoulder  and  pointed  out 

three  memorandums,  which  he  carefully  read. 

166 


MARY  JOHNSON  167 

The  addendum  was  in  the  handwriting  of  Miss 
Carew,  and  read  as  follows : 

6-12 — 1919 — has  built  shack  on  the  ocean  side 
of  South  Bay,  opposite  Smith  Point.  Two  rooms, 
stove,  kitchenette — goes  there  during  summer 
months — at  week-ends — place  is  made  comfort- 
able for  duck  shooting  in  late  fall.  Double  bed — 
5-15-1920— Joined  the  Indian  Head  Social  Club, 
near  Jamesport,  East  of  Eiverhead.  Membership 
composed  almost  entirely  of  divorcees,  both  men 
and  women.  Single  men  and  pretty  women,  eli- 
gible. Golf  club — card  games — liquor  lockers — 
thirty  suites — baths — swimming  pool — indoor 
athletics — free  and  easy — no  questions  asked — 
no  interference.  Open  all  year — once  known 
as  The  Mad  House,  then  Herman's  Road  House. 
Herman  still  owns  it,  but  has  modernized  the 
place  and  bids  for  better  clients  under  the  guise 
of  a  social  country  club." 

"Get  Riverhead,  and  ask  for  George  Carver, 
head  clerk  at  the  White  House,"  said  Updyke  to 
the  girl  beside  him.  "Glad  to  note  that  some  one 
is  on  the  job  around  here,"  he  added  gruffly. 

In  less  than  three  minutes  the  connection  was 
made,  but  even  to  the  man  at  the  helm,  minutes 
seemed  hours — such  was  his  mental  strain. 

"Hello,  George — this  is  Updyke — Yes — fine, 
thank  you — do  you  know  William  Parkins? — 


168  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

only  by  sight — eh? — he  belongs  to  Indian  Head 
Social  Club — find  out  if  he  is  over  there — call 
me  back  quickly — thanks — hurry  boy !" 

The  next  five  minutes  dragged  along  at  a 
snail's  pace,  so  overwrought  was  Updyke — and 
no  less  the  efficient  Mary  Johnson.  But  the 
right  tingle  came  along  in  due  course  of  time. 

"This  you,  Henry — all  right — he  telephoned 
from  Yaphank  for  a  parlor  and  bath  suite — ex- 
pected very  soon — can  I  help  you  in  any  way?" 

"You  are  still  a  deputy  sheriff?"  queried  Up- 
dyke. 

"Yes — they  wouldn't  take  my  resignation.'' 

"Listen  carefully,  George — this  is  a  serious 
matter.  This  man  Parkins  has  kidnapped  a  beau- 
tiful, chaste  girl,  and  is  taking  her  to  Indian 
Head,  if  I  am  not  in  error.  You  have  a  motor- 
cycle?" 

"Oh,  yes — can't  get  along  without  one  over 
here,"  replied  Carver. 

"Then  hop  it  instantly,  and  ride  for  your  life 
to  that  club.  If  Parkins  hasn't  arrived — thank 
God! — you  stop  him  before  he  gets  there,  and 
save  a  great  scandal  that  would  ruin  the  girl. 


MARY  JOHNSON  169 

She  is  as  pure  as  snow,  and  is  betrothed  to  the 
best  friend  I  have  on  earth.  Help  me  out,  boy! 
Get  that  man  Parkins — serve  a  'John  Doe'  war- 
rant on  him  and  take  him  to  the  home  of  Drury 
Villard  at  Dreamy  Hollow.  It's  a  big  black 
limousine,  two  men  in  front,  and  Parkins,  with 
a  woman  accomplice,  inside.  The  chauffeur  is 
McGonigle's  man,  but  the  other  fellow  is  my 
man.  He  may  need  help — he  might  be  killed — 
but  you  save  the  day  from  scandal." 

"I'll  do  my  best,  old-timer.  What  you  have 
told  me  makes  me  see  red.  I  may  shoot  the 
skunk,"  said  he  in  a  rasping  voice.  "If  it  was  a 
Riverhead  case,  we'd  tar  and  feather  him." 

"Go  like  the  wind,  George — and  don't  fail/' 
replied  Updyke,  a  husky  tone  in  his  deep  voice. 

When  George  Carver  swung  into  the  James- 
port  road  a  cloud  of  dust  trailed  behind  him  until 
he  stopped  in  front  of  the  clubhouse.  Parkins 
had  not  arrived,  so  everything  was  safe  thus  far. 
Turning  back  along  the  road  he  traveled  leisurely 
and  muffled  the  "cut-out." 

Updyke  had  figured  matters  out  almost  to  a 
nicety.  Two  miles  west  of  Jamesport  a  limousine 
hove  in  view. 


170  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

The  car  was  coming  fast,  head-on  for  passage 
against  all-comers.  But  Carver  was  an  old  hand 
at  stopping  speeders. 

He  jumped  from  his  machine  and  laid  it  cross- 
wise of  the  narrow  road.  Then  with  his  feet  on 
the  wheel  and  his  revolver  pointed  straight  at  the 
oncoming  chauffeur,  he  shouted : 

"Halt !  or  I'll  kill  you !" — and  at  once  the  emer- 
gency was  applied  to  the  brakes  of  the  big  ma- 
chine, causing  thereby  a  most  gruesome  noise. 

"Hands  up,  chauffeur !  Step  off  of  your  car — 
lie  down  on  the  roadside — belly  to  the  ground !" 

To  the  Updyke  man  he  said — "If  he  makes  a 
move  kill  him !" 

Parkins,  not  yet  discovered  by  either  officer, 
had  dropped  to  the  floor  and  pulled  a  dust  robe 
over  his  body.  Carver  tried  to  open  the  door, 
but  it  was  locked  from  inside.  The  door  on  the 
other  side  was  also  bolted  from  within. 

"All  right,  Parkins,  you  are  going  to  have  the 
merriest  little  test  put  up  to  you  that  a  rascal 
of  your  stamp  could  conceive  of  in  a  life  time !" 
shouted  Carver.  "At  this  moment  you  and  your 
accomplice  are  shielding  yourselves  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  frail  girl.  She  need  have  no  fear — 


"  HALT  !   OR  I'LL  KILL  YOU !  " 


MARY  JOHNSON  171 

you  infernal  coward!  But  unless  you  and  that 
woman  come  out  instantly,  I'll  break  in  the  doors 
and  hang  both  of  you  up  by  the  thumbs.  I  am 
counting  ten  — one — two — three — four — five — 
get  ready,  'Updyke  man' — six " 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Duke  screamed  as 
she  saw  Carver's  badge. 

Parkins  came  out  first,  with  palms  turned 
outward  and  was  made  to  lay  face-down,  his  arms 
stretched  above  his  head.  Then  came  the  woman, 
to  find,  at  the  point  of  a  revolver,  that  she  had 
forfeited  the  chivalry  of  honest  men. 

"Now  you,  Updyke  man,  slip  a  pair  of  brace- 
lets on  both  the  man  and  the  woman,  while  I  do 
the  same  with  the  driver.  Now,  little  lady,"  he 
added,  addressing  Winifred,  "could  you  ride  be- 
hind me  on  my  motorcycle  to  Riverhead?" 

Carver  stood  with  hat  in  hand,  smiling  into  her 
pallid  face. 

"Oh,  I  am  sure  I  could,"  she  whispered,  fright- 
ened to  the  point  of  nervous  breakdown, 
while  I  prepare  these  kidnappers  for  a  safe  jour- 

"Then  walk  back  along  the  road  a  little  way 
ney,"  said  he,  sneering  down  upon  the  prisoners. 


172  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"I  wouldn't  want  you  to  see  what  I  may  have  to 
do  to  them." 

At  the  suggestion  of  the  Updyke  man  each 
prisoner  was  handcuffed  with  arms  behind,  in- 
stead of  in  front,  as  was  the  usual  practice  in  ex- 
treme cases. 

"That's  the  safest  way,"  said  the  operative, 
"and  now  we'll  tie  their  feet  to  the  foot  rest — 
Parkins  in  front,  by  himself,  and  the  woman  and 
the  chauffeur  on  the  rear  seat.  I'll  drive  the 
car  back  to  New  York.  Updyke  will  be  waiting 
for  them,  all  right  enough !" 

When  the  job  was  completed,  the  curtains  were 
drawn  and  the  doors  locked  from  outside.  Then 
the  Updyke  operative  mounted  the  chauffeur's 
seat  and  headed  the  car  toward  the  west. 

Carver  now  helped  the  girl  to  mount  his  wheel, 
and  then  jumped  into  the  saddle  in  front  of  her. 

"Hold  on  to  me  tight — we're  going  to  speed 
some!"  said  he,  gaily,  then  he  shot  in  the  gas, 
and  they  were  off  for  Riverhead,  the  limousine 
trailing  in  the  dust  close  behind. 

For  a  time  the  male  prisoners  eyed  each  other 
in  sheepish  fashion,  but  Mrs.  Duke  cried  bitterly 
as  the  car  skipped  along.  With  her  arms  behind 


MARY  JOHNSON  173 

her  she  had  no  means  of  wiping  the  tear-drops 
that  plowed  ridges  through  the  dust  on  her  face. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  ever  got  into  this  dreadful 
affair!"  she  moaned. 

"Shut  up!"  shouted  Parkins  sharply.  "They 
can't  do  anything  with  us.  That  would  ruin 
the  girl's  reputation." 

"But  that  man  Updyke! — how  did  you  ever 
conceive  the  idea  that  you  could  frustrate  that 
brute's  plans?" 

"What  do  you  know  about  him?"  snapped 
Parkins. 

"I've  seen  him,  and  that's  enough !  Oh,  such  a 
face ! — such  strength  of  purpose ! — such " 

"Cut  it  out  I  tell  you — or  you  will  lose  your 
chance,  as  a  woman,  to  say  that  you  had  no 
thought  of  breaking  the  law.  The  girl  and  I  were 
eloping  and  you  were  along  as  a  friend.  Do  you 
get  that?" 

"You  are  so  wonderful,  Mr.  Parkins — indeed 
you  are,"  sighed  Mrs.  Duke,  as  her  tears  slack- 
ened. "I  knew  it  the  moment  I  saw  you,  all 
bruised  and  torn.  Certainly  she  was  eloping 
with  you,  and  now  I  remember  how  sweetly  she 
talked  about  you  as  we  walked  along  the  beach. 


174  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

You  had  always  been  so  kind  to  her  father,  and 
all  that." 

"See  that  you  don't  forget  it,"  replied  Parkins, 
already  planning  his  way  to  freedom.  "And  also 
remember  this — that  when  she  was  seized  by 
these  men,  and  we  were  arrested  like  kidnappers, 
I  was  taking  her  to  one  of  the  swellest  country 
clubs  in  the  land.  We  were  to  be  married  there, 
and  you  were  to  be  the  witness — see?" 

Parkins'  eyes  flashed,  and  his  lips  curled  into 
a  cruel  smile  as  he  thought  of  the  revenge  he 
would  take  upon  Villard  and  the  girl,  if  called 
to  the  witness  stand.  How  the  reporters  would 
enjoy  it!  And  how  Villard's  face  would  burn 
with  shame  as  lawyers  for  the  defense  drove 
home  his  crazy  notions  about  spiritual  commu- 
nications ! 

The  thought  almost  made  him  happy. 

At  Riverhead  telephoning  was  in  order.  The 
car  containing  the  prisoners  was,  by  Updyke's 
order,  to  be  driven  through  to  New  York  and  the 
culprits  brought  to  his  office.  The  girl,  Wini- 
fred, would  await  the  arrival  of  Villard's  car  at 
Yaphank,  Carver  gladly  agreeing  to  convey  her 
that  far,  changing  to  his  runabout  at  Riverhead 


MARY  JOHNSON  175 

— thus  adding  to  her  comfort  until  she  would 
meet  up  with  her  friends. 

Sawyer  was  so  overcome  with  joy  at  "the  news 
from  the  front,"  as  he  called  it,  that  he  insisted 
on  being  taken  along  with  Villard.  So,  with 
Santzi  as  a  mascot,  and  Jacques  at  the  wheel, 
they  were  soon  on  their  way.  But  aside  from  the 
joy  in  each  breast,  there  was  a  grim  thought  in 
each  mind — and  small  charity  for  Parkins  and 
the  nurse  he  had  used  as  a  foil. 

Then,  too,  the  shock  of  Winifred's  strange  dis- 
appearance had  so  upset  the  nerves  of  Alexander 
B  arbour  that  he  now  hovered  near  "The  Great 
Crossing."  But  the  ever  kindly  Mrs.  Bond  had 
his  case  in  hand,  and  the  doctor  had  been  called, 
although  he  had  not  arrived  when  Villard's  party 
left  for  Yaphank. 

"If  Winifred  will  agree,  we  will  be  married  to- 
night," said  Villard,  in  an  undertone,  to  Saw- 
yer. 

The  latter  did  not  reply,  although  he  remained 
in  deep  thought  for  almost  a  mile,  as  shown  by 
the  speedometer. 

"No,  my  friend,"  said  he,  finally,  and  with  an 
effort  to  tell  the  truth  without  offending— "her 


176  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

youthful  dreams  must  not  be  wiped  out  in  any 
such  rough-shod  manner.  I  know  the  big  heart- 
edness  of  your  intentions,  but  Winifred  is  a  girl 
and  she  must  have  the  say.  There  are  her  old- 
time  friends  at  Patchogue.  Those  she  cares  for 
should  by  all  means  be  invited.  She  must  have  a 
fling  of  some  pretensions  or  she  will  brood  in 
silence  at  your  lack  of  sympathy." 

"Alas,  you  are  right — as  usual,"  sighed  Vil- 
lard.  "However,  my  pessimism  is  newly  bora 
from  the  fruits  of  this  evil  day." 

"There  you  go  again — evil  day !  Why,  it's  the 
greatest  day  of  your  life!  The  girl  over  there 
among  the  stars  has  again  reached  out  in  your 
behalf,  and  this  time  the  proof  is  positive  of  her 
watchfulness  over  you." 

"Forgive  me,  Sawyer,"  said  Villard  simply, 
patting  his  friend  on  the  knee.  "My  little  girl 
shall  take  her  own  time  and  have  a  wedding  after 
her  own  heart.  Then  Dreamy  Hollow  will  wake 
up  and  amount  to  something!" 

It  was  a  wide-eyed  and  dusty  little  heroine 
that  George  Carver  handed  over  at  Yaphank. 
Santzi  jumped  out  of  the  roadster  and  fairly 


MARY  JOHNSON  177 

lifted  her  into  the  place  between  the  two  men  on 
the  back  seat,  who  stood  up  to  greet  her. 

At  once  she  snuggled  closely  to  Villard,  and 
shivered,  until  finally  he  put  his  big  arm  about 
her  and  soothed  her  with  gentle  words  of  sym- 
pathy. Sawyer  looked  away  from  it  all,  his  eyes 
moist  at  the  girl's  sweet  simplicity,  but  Villard 
motioned  Carver  to  his  side  of  the  car  and  leaned 
over  and  whispered — then  put  a  card  in  his 
hand. 

"Well,  I  may  call  in  on  you  at  your  home 
some  day,  but  I  seldom  go  to  New  York.  I've 
seen  a  little  of  Dreamy  Hollow  while  riding  by 
at  times.  The  young  lady  sitting  beside  you  has 
a  strong  heart  and  she  knows  how  to  keep  up  her 
nerve,"  said  he,  laughing  up  at  her  pale  smiling 
face.  "Most  women  would  have  had  a  sure 
enough  fit,  if  placed  in  the  same  situation." 

Then,  doffing  his  cap,  he  said — 

"Good-by,  all,"  and  offered  his  hand  to  the  girl. 

Kissing  the  tips  of  her  dainty  fingers  Winifred 
held  them  out  to  him,  and  said — 

"Good-by,  sir.  I  shall  never  forget  your  kind- 
ness, and  your  bravery — nor  will  any  of  us,"  she 


178  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

added,  glancing  from  Carver  to  Villard,  and 
back  to  Carver  again. 

And  then,  with  a  little  sigh,  she  fell  back  be- 
tween Villard  and  Sawyer  and  closed  her  eyes. 
Within  a  few  minutes  she  was  sound  asleep.  The 
adventure  had  taxed  her  beyond  her  strength. 

That  night  Villard  shivered  in  his  sleep,  but 
not  from  cold.  There  was  a  certain  dread  of 
misfortune — he  knew  not  what — that  filled  his 
mind.  Publicity,  from  a  gossip  standpoint,  was 
his  pet  aversion.  The  thought  of  its  blight  upon 
his  name,  and  the  haunting  fear  of  being  pointed 
out  as  the  man  whose  sweetheart  had  been  kid- 
napped by  one  of  his  partners,  simply  brought 
out  a  cold  sweat  over  his  body.  At  midnight  he 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  whereupon  he  turned 
on  his  reading  lamp  and  reached  for  the  bedside 
telephone — then  called  up  the  hotel  where  Up- 
dyke  lived,  and  was  connected  with  his  room. 

The  big  fellow  was  just  retiring  when  he  an- 
swered the  call. 

"I  expected  to  hear  from  you  earlier  in  the 
evening,"  said  he  by  way  of  greeting.  "Hot  old 
day,  eh?" 

"A  great  day,  as  it  turned  out  to  be — and 


MARY  JOHNSON  179 

how  I  am  ever  going  to  get  even  with  you  I 
don't  know !"  said  Villard  with  much  feeling. 

"Come  off  of  that,  or  I'll  send  you  a  bill  for 
services  the  first  of  the  month,"  shouted  TJpdyke. 

"Well,  you'd  better,  or  I'll  send  you  something 
you  won't  like — an  insult  of  some  sort  about  peo- 
ple who  have  big  hearts  and  no  wits  for  making 
money  to  'feed  the  old  gray  mare'  with." 

"Don't  worry — you're  not  out  of  the  woods 
yet — but  I  won't  check  in  on  that  until  I  get 
through  with  'so  and  so'  and  a  few  of  his  crooked 
friends.  I'm  going  out  to  see  you  to-morrow 
night  and  talk  things  over.  I'll  say  that  it's 
going  to  be  some  trick  to  keep  this  thing  out  of 
the  papers,"  said  Updyke,  his  voice  carrying  con- 
viction. "It's  a  thousand  dollar  scoop  if  'so  and 
so'  wants  the  money  bad  enough.  I  think  he  is 
'all  in'  so  far  as  ready  cash  is  concerned.  He 
didn't  pull  this  trick  just  for  the — you  know 
what  I  mean." 

"Yes — go  on !" 

"No,  we  will  talk  it  out,  with  less  danger.  I'll 
run  down  later.  I  had  one  terrible  time  in  third- 
degree  stuff  and  have  put  him  away  for  the  night. 


180  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Me  for  the  mattress  and  a  pillow,  for  awhile. 
Get  some  sleep,  yourself !" 

"All  right — and  God  bless  you!"  replied 
Drury  Villard,  as  he  shut  off  the  light  and  settled 
down  in  bed.  But  there  is  no  such  thing  as  sleep 
for  a  wide-awake  man. 

A  very  small  incident  of  the  day  kept  creep- 
ing into  his  thoughts — young  Carver!  Had  not 
his  Winifred  kissed  her  dainty  hand  as  she  held 
it  out  to  him?  Was  it  just  a  girlish  impulse? — 
or  was  it  the  blood  of  youth  responding  to  the 
call?  Once  planted,  this  tiny  seed  of  uncertainty 
began  to  grow.  The  clock  struck  one — brooding 
time,  for  middle-aged  men  who  roll  and  toss,  and 
think  dark  things  in  the  black  hours  of  the 
night. 

"It's  only  natural  that  youth  responds  to 
youth,"  said  he  to  himself — "but  I  too  am  young 
in  years,  although  my  crowded  life  has  made  me 
old  and  out  of  tune  with  youth  itself.  I  wonder 
if  I  have  been  fair  to  this  child?"  he  mumbled  im- 
patiently. "I  wonder,  I " 

Then,  suddenly,  his  mind  relaxed,  and  over  he 
went — "to  the  land  of  nod  and  dream." 

On  the  following  day  Winif re^  spent  the  entire 


MARY  JOHNSON  181 

morning  in  her  father's  room.  He  was  ill  at 
heart  and  in  body.  The  events  of  the  day  before, 
coupled  with  those  of  the  ten  days  preceding  had 
worn  him  down  to  a  frazzle  of  his  old  self.  He 
longed  for  the  peace  and  quiet  of  his  own  home. 
He  missed  his  old  acquaintances  with  whom  he 
exchanged  salutations  each  day  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  weather — "fine  day," — "looks  like 
some  sorter  change" — "it's  about  time  for  the 
rains  to  set  it,"  and  the  like. 

The  good  man  was  lonesome  in  the  big  Villard 
home,  and  added  to  that,  a  deep  cold  had  settled 
on  his  chest  and  continuous  coughing  had  ex- 
hausted his  powers  of  combativeness.  But  at 
last  he  was  asleep,  coaxed  by  the  soft  hands  of 
his  daughter  who  gently  smoothed  his  forehead 
and  face,  and  combed  his  hair  and  scalp,  all  of 
which  induced  new  circulation — and  finally,  a 
most  welcome  drowsiness,  which  terminated  in 
peaceful  slumber. 

Tired  almost  to  the  point  of  exhaustion,  Wini- 
fred sought  the  quiet  of  her  cosy  portico,  on  the 
second  floor,  overlooking  the  west  garden,  and 
there  in  a  huge  lounging  chair  sat  Drury  Vil- 
lard, his  eyes  shut  tight,  and  fast  asleep. 


182  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

She  gazed  upon  his  kindly  face,  and  then,  with 
the  joy  of  youthful  spirits,  she  put  her  hands  over 
his  eyes.  Then  in  a  voice  deep  as  she  could  com- 
mand she  whispered  into  his  ear. 

"Who  dares  to  break  the  stillness  of  my  soli- 
tude when  I  am  sleeping  over  a  dull  magazine 
article  about  the  future  prospects  of  rubber" — 
and  that  was  as  far  as  she  got. 

The  big  man  reached  out  and  closed  his  giant 
hand  over  her  soft,  dainty  wrists,  and  drew  her  to 
a  place  beside  him — tired  little  girl  that  she  was. 
And  there  she  sat  and  closed  her  eyes  while  he 
stroked  her  hair  and  whispered  endearing  words 
into  a  small  pink  ear — and  told  her  a  tale  about 
"The  Old  Man  of  the  Sea/'  who— "whistled  up 
the  winds,  and  called  for  Davy  Crockett,  and  to- 
gether watched  the  fury  of  the  waves." 

Indeed,  Drury  Villard  was  a  gentleman  of  the 
old  school,  and  there  are  many,  many  verses  to 
that  rollicking  old  song,  just  right  for  a  tired 
little  "mother  girl"  who  had  attended  her  sick 
father  for  many  long  hours.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  her  eyelids  closed  and  her  body  relaxed, 
when  dreamland  hove  in  sight. 

And  for  more  than  an  hour  Villard  held  her 


MARY  JOHNSON  183 

thus3  while  his  brain  teemed  with  plans  for  her 
happiness.  And  when  she  awoke  they  walked  out 
among  the  flowered  bushes  and  watched  the  sun 
go  down. 

"Now  I  must  go  to  my  father — I've  neglected 
him  too  long,  and  he  is  so  lonely!"  said  she; 
"and  I  am  all  he  has  left  to  comfort  him." 

Feeling  that  the  end  was  near  for  Alexander 
Barbour,  Villard  shook  his  head,  as  sadly  he  reck- 
oned upon  the  grief  of  the  daughter.  A  matter 
of  days,  or  a  month  at  most,  and  his  Winifred 
would  become  an  orphaned  child.  Once  more  the 
thought  came  into  his  mind  that  the  sick  man 
would  be  less  distraught  if  he  knew  that  his 
daughter  had  the  protection  of  a  husband.  He 
would  settle  the  matter  after  advising  with  Up- 
dyke,  who  held  opposite  views  to  his  own.  With 
that  in  mind  he  went  to  his  study  and  shut  him- 
self in. 

Just  as  Villard  was  about  to  sit  down  he 
heard  a  gentle  knock  upon  the  panel  of  the  door, 
an  unusual  occurrence,  for  the  rule  laid  down 
by  the  master  was  that  no  one  should  be  an- 
nounced at  this  particular  room  except  by  phone. 


184  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Disturbed  he  jumped  to  his  feet  and  stalked  for- 
ward. 

"Who's  there!"  he  demanded,  his  hand  grip- 
ping the  knob. 

"Alexander  Barbour,  sir,"  came  the  answer  in 
a  weak  tone  of  voice. 

"Oh — come  right  in,  Mr.  Barbour,"  said  Vil- 
lard,  affably,  as  he  threw  the  door  wide  open.  "I 
very  seldom  hear  a  knock  when  I  am  in  this 
room.  All  of  the  folks  around  the  house  know 
that  I'm  'out'  when  I'm  in  here.  But  you  are 
welcome." 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you,"  replied 
Winifred's  father,  who  coughed  as  gently  as  he 
could,  but  his  face  turned  red  from  the  effort. 
"I  didn't  know,"  he  said  by  way  of  apology. 

"Sit  down,  dear  man,  and  tell  me  what  you 
have  on  your  mind,"  encouraged  Villard.  "You 
may  be  sure  of  my  interest." 

"Sir,  I — I  want  to  go  home — to  die.  My  wife 
might  not  know  where  I  was  if  I  passed  out  here ! 
She  wouldn't  likely  think  of  finding  me  in  this 
big  mansion.  I  am  dying  sir — I  must  go  home ! 
It's  only " 

"Yes,  dear  man,  it's  only  a  little  while  before 


MARY  JOHNSON  185 

we  all  must  take  the  same  road.  It  is  our  fate — 
we  can't  dodge  the  issue.  But  what  of  Wini- 
fred? .  .  .  You  .  .  ." 

Villard's  voice  broke  off  suddenly  when  he  con- 
sidered what  he  was  on  the  point  of  saying. 

"She  will  want  to  be  near  me  during  the  cross- 
over," said  B  arbour,  nodding  his  head,  indicating 
his  certainty  of  his  daughter's  devotion. 

Villard  was  upon  the  verge  of  humoring  Bar- 
bour  at  any  cost  of  time  or  trouble,  when  sud- 
denly he  thought  of  Parkins.  What  if  he  were  to 
regain  his  freedom  before  the  death  of  Barbour ! 
Although  now  under  restraint,  the  scapegrace 
had  not  been  legally  tried  and  convicted.  The 
court  might  easily  decide  that  the  case  was  tan- 
tamount to  an  elopement,  and  Parkins,  if  ar- 
rested, allowed  to  give  bail. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  is  best  for  the  pres- 
ent, Mr.  Barbour,"  said  he,  smiling  into  the 
eyes  of  the  stricken  man.  "Mr.  Updyke  ia  com- 
ing out  to-night,  and  of  the  three  of  us,  he  is  most 
capable  of  judging  the  proper  thing  to  do.  I  am 
sure  he  will  find  a  way  to  safely  bring  about  what 
you  have  suggested.  But  neither  you  nor  I  know 
just  how.  Now,  isn't  that  a  better  plan?" 


186  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Alexander  Barbour  smiled  feebly,  but  evi- 
dently approved  of  the  idea.  He  had  seen  Up- 
dyke  and  knew  he  must  be  a  power  in  his  line  of 
business,  whatever  that  might  be. 

"You  ought  to  know  what  is  best,  sir,"  replied 
the  sick  man.  "I  am  not  up  in  such  matters — but 
I  trust  you  with  all  my  heart.  My  daughter  is 
one  of  the  sweetest  young  women  in  the  world, 
and  she  must  be  protected  wherever  she  is,"  he 
replied.  "Maybe  she's  be  safer  in  a  little  town 
like  Patchogue  than  among  these  grand  homes  on 
the  Parkway." 

"But  she  was  more  than  just  stolen  when  the 
accident  occurred,  friend  Barbour.  You  can 
hardly  realize  the  trap  you  both  were  headed  for. 
But,  of  the  two,  your  daughter  would  have  fared 
the  worst.  Even  if  you  had  been  killed  by  the 
man  you  trusted,  you  would  have  been  better  off 
than  your  innocent  daughter,"  concluded  Vil- 
lard. 

"Don't  say  another  word,  please,"  begged  the 
father,  who  could  not  bear  to  have  the  subject 
referred  to.  "It  isn't  that  I  don't  trust  you,  sir, 
it's  because  my  child  is  my  life,  and  I  can't  spare 
her — yet.  Only  a  little  while  will  I  need  her. 


MARY  JOHNSON  187 

You  can  see  that  for  yourself.  I  am  on  my  way 
to  her  mother — I'll  soon  be  with  her.  Then  you 
may  come  for  Winifred,  and  she  will  go  with  you. 
She  loves  you  from  the  depths  of  her  heart !" 

Wearied  by  his  effort,  Alexander  Barbour  gave 
himself  over  to  another  spell  of  coughing,  and 
failing  to  stop  it,  retired  from  the  room.  He  had 
said  his  say  about  Winifred  and  there  was  noth- 
ing left  for  Villard  to  do  but  accede  to  his  point 
of  view.  After  all  he  had  awaited  so  long  the 
advent  of  the  girl  of  his  dreams,  that  he  could 
afford,  for  the  sake  of  all  concerned,  to  accede 
to  the  father's  wishes.  But  his  Winifred  should 
be  safeguarded  by  day  and  night ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  THIRD  DEGREE 

DRURY  VILLARD  waited  impatiently  and  well 
into  the  dark  of  the  night  for  the  arrival  of  Henry 
Updyke  at  Dreamy  Hollow.  And  when  he  did 
arrive,  he  was  worn  and  weary  to  the  point  of 
brain  fag.  Parkins  had  been  given  the  "third 
degree"  and  was  now  "a  master  crook" — accord- 
ing to  the  man  who  for  two  hours  had  raked  him 
fore  and  aft  with  scathing  contempt  and  piti- 
less ridicule.  Hour  after  hour  Updyke  had  bat- 
tered at  the  portal  of  his  victim's  brain,  until,  at 
last,  it  creaked — then,  opened  wide  to  the  flood 
of  light  that  revealed  the  manner  of  man  he  was. 
The  big  fellow  was  glad,  indeed,  that  Villard 
had  not  been  present.  Soft-hearted  men  had  no 
place  in  such  proceedings. 

Updyke  was  not  the  only  one  to  ply  the  ques- 
tions. The  Updyke  "system"  was  there  in  force 
— certain  lawyers — trained  for  the  work,  who 
came  to  browbeat  and  cajole,  to  threaten  and 

188 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         189 

scorn.  To  none  of  these  had  the  case  of  Wini- 
fred Barbour  been  confided — that  was  a  job 
which  the  master  mind  reserved  for  itself.  Old 
matters  long  since  condoned  were  exhumed 
whereby  to  wear  the  culprit  down  to  a  full  con- 
fession of  his  most  recent  exploit.  When  that 
moment  arrived  the  man  was  limp,  dazed  and 
completely  shorn  of  combativeness. 

Then  came  Updyke  himself,  and  along  with 
him  five  additional  operatives,  fierce  of  eye, 
solemn,  and  noiseless,  as  they  arranged  their 
chairs  in  semicircle  formation,  the  better  to  con- 
front the  would-be  kidnapper.  Two  shorthand 
men  took  seats,  one  on  either  side  of  the  witness 
— then  the  steel  door,  to  the  great  concrete 
"sweat  room,"  was  closed  with  a  bang — and 
locked  against  further  admissions.  All  this  had 
been  done  within  three  minutes,  and  with  studied 
intent,  that  the  witness  should  not  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  an  unnecessary  moment  of  respite. 

The  Barbour  matter  was  Updyke's  own  case 
and  he  went  about  it  "hammer  and  tongs."  To 
the  stenographers  he  said — 

"Every  word  must  be  taken  down  verbatim — 
see  that  your  notes  compare,  rigidly  alike,  at  the 


190  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

close  of  the  confession."  Then  to  Parkins  he 
bawled — • 

"Sit  up  like  a  man  and  tell  the  truth !  Don't 
try  to  lie,  for  we  know  every  side  of  the  case  and 
you  will  only  serve  yourself  a  bad  turn  if  you  try 
any  smart-aleck  subterfuge.  The  more  you  tell 
of  your  deviltry  the  fewer  the  witnesses  that  will 
be  brought  in  to  testify  against  you.  It's  up  to 
you,  whether  or  not  you  gain  credence  with  those 
who  confront  you — all  sworn  officers  of  the  law — 
who  have  no  prejudices  to  start  with,  but  will 
give  you  all  that  is  coming  to  you  should  you  lie 
in  an  attempt  to  save  yourself.  For  once  in  your 
life  it  will  pay  you  to  be  honest !  Talk  out  loud 
so  every  one  present  can  hear  you  plainly,  or  you 
will  get  a  bucket  of  ice  water  in  your  face !  No 
foolishness — we  will  now  begin — sit  up  straight 
and  don't  look  annoyed.  You  are  the  star  actor 
in  this  drama." 

To  Martin  Leroy,  one  of  the  stenographers,  a 
public  notary,  he  winked.  Then  said — "Swear 
this  man  to  tell  the  truth !" — and  turning  toward 
the  much-perturbed  Parkins  he  shouted — "Stand 
up  and  raise  your  right  hand !" 

The  notary  knew  full  well  that  such  an  oath 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         191 

had  no  legal  force — but  it  was  part  of  the  sweat- 
ing process. 

Weak  from  mental  anxiety,  Parkins  struggled 
to  his  feet.  When  he  had  repeated  the  last  words 
of  the  oath — "so  help  me  God" — he  fell  back  into 
his  chair  exhausted.  All  bravado  had  left  him. 

"Sit  up  straight,  and  answer  the  questions 
that  are  put  to  you,"  commanded  Updyke,  whose 
deep  voice  and  ominous  frown  bore  down  upon 
the  wilting  degenerate  until  he  squirmed  in  his 
chair. 

"Stop  that  fidgeting,  and  make  up  your  mind 
that  the  truth  will  serve,  but  the  lie  will  con- 
demn !"  he  shouted. 

"Now  sir" — began  the  man  whose  iron  blood 
coursed  through  veins  of  corresponding  vigor — 
"state  your  full  name,  your  age,  place  of  birth, 
residence,  and  avocation." 

"I  was  born  in  New  York  City — and,  er " 

"Speak  up !"  shouted  the  inquisitor.  "A  brave 
kidnapper  would  never  cringe  like  a  starving 
puppy." 

"I  am  thirty-five  years  old,  and  I  was 
born " 

"Here  in  New  York — we  managed  to  get  that. 


192  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Go  on  with  the  rest,"  said  Updyke,  gruffly,  well 
knowing  the  advantage  of  getting  in  a  quick  first 
blow. 

Then  came  the  answers  to  the  other  questions 
in  sequence  from  the  beginning. 

"Now  tell  us  the  story  of  your  life — the  good 
— and  the  bad — the  indifferent,"  commanded  Up- 
dyke. "We  know  it,  pretty  well  now,  but  we 
want  it  from  your  own  lips,  so,  by  comparison 
with  our  records,  we  will  know  whether  or  not 
you  are  lying." 

Parkins'  face  turned  purple  at  the  thought  of 
his  predicament.  To  be  stigmatized  as  a  liar  in 
the  presence  of  men  was  as  a  blow  in  the  face. 

"It's — it's  a  long  story — not  all  bad,"  said  he, 
reminiscently.  "There  was  a  time  when  none 
could  say  anything  against  me.  I  am  a  victim  of 
drink  and  narcotics.  If  I  could  go  somewhere — 
find  a  place  in  which  I  could  be  cured,  I  would 
begin  over  again.  Often  the  feeling  comes  to  me 
to  run  away  from  it  all — but  where  could  I  go? 
The  stuff  is  found  everywhere !  Most  men  drink, 
to  some  extent,  but  are  moderate.  To  one  of  my 
temperament,  one  drink  means  a  drunk,  for  I 
cannot  quit  until  I  become  a  sodden  rotter." 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         193 

"That  is  a  sad  state  of  affairs,  Parkins,  but  in- 
teresting— go  on  with  your  story,"  snapped  Up- 
dyke,  his  eyes  fixed  cruelly  upon  the  man  in  the 
witness  chair. 

"There  are  many  things  and  many  angles,  to 
a  life  such  as  mine,"  began  Parkins,  nervously.  "I 
was  orphaned  when  a  small  boy,  and  grew  up  on 
the  streets  of  the  city.  I  sold  papers,  slept  in 
delivery  wagons,  tended  furnaces,  did  odd  jobs — 
anything  to  keep  going — but  they  were  happy 
days.  After  a  time  I  became  a  messenger  boy, 
in  uniform,  and  to  find  myself  in  decent  cloth- 
ing gave  me  an  uplift.  But  that  job  was  my 
ruination.  It  took  me  into  vile  places  as  well 
as  the  best  of  homes,  clubs  and  hotels.  A  mes- 
senger boy  goes  where  he  is  sent — into  a  saloon,  a 
house  of  shady  repute,  or  a  home  on  the  avenue." 

Here  Parkins  paused  and  wiped  his  face  with 
a  silken  kerchief.  At  a  glance  he  could  see  that 
his  story,  thus  far,  had  been  listened  to  atten- 
tively. 

"But  it  was  not  at  any  of  those  places  that  I 
took  my  first  drink,"  he  continued.  "A  stag  din- 
ner of  young  college  fellows  at  one  of  the  leading 
hotels  required  some  one  to  attend  the  door.  A 


194  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

ring  for  a  messenger  took  me  out  on  the  job. 
They  had  expected  a  man,  and  here  was  I,  with 
my  brass  buttons,  red  stripes,  and  cap  to  match 
the  blue  coat  and  trousers.  The  party  was  well 
under  way  when  I  arrived,  and  when  I  opened 
the  door  and  announced  who  I  was,  and  what 
I  was  wanted  for,  a  big  howl  of  laughter  took 
place.  'The  Doorman!'  shouted  one  fine  big 
fellow,  as  he  grabbed  me  and  stood  me  in  the 
center  of  a  very  large  dining  table.  At  once 
they  proposed  a  toast  to  'The  Doorman/  and  I 
was  'it'  from  then  on.  They  served  me  a  tiny 
cocktail,  which  I  drank  without  trouble,  although 
it  was  my  first.  One  man  protested,  and  was 
brushed  aside.  But  another  fellow  handed  me  a 
glass  half  filled  with  champagne.  That  appealed 
to  me,  and  I  asked  for  more,  whereupon  several 
guests  shook  their  fists  at  the  man  who  gave  it  to 
me.  To  stop  the  fight  I  shouted  in  regular  news- 
boy language — 'What's  de  matter  wid  you'se 
fella's.  I  drink  dis  stuff  wid  me  breakfas'  ev'ry 
day  of  me  life !' — then  I  began  to  feel  dizzy." 

"Very  interesting,"  observed  one  of  the  opera- 
tives to  another  in  a  whisper. 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         195 

"Then  what  happened?"  grunted  Updyke,  less 
gruffly. 

"The  next  thing  I  knew  I  woke  up  in  a  won- 
derful room.  It  was  part  of  a  suite  in  one  of  the 
swell  hotels  of  those  days — the  old  Fifth  Avenue 
— and  a  kindly  faced  woman  arose  and  came  over 
to  me.  I  was  all  right — and  I  told  her  so.  I 
wondered  why  she  had  on  nurse's  clothing,  but 
later  on  learned  that  all  hotels  had  a  head  nurse. 
A  few  hours  later  a  very  bright  faced,  well 
dressed  young  man,  not  over  twenty-one,  came 
rushing  in.  His  eyes  twinkled,  and  he  patted  me 
on  my  cheeks — 'Never  again  for  you — young 
fellow!'  he  said — then — *I  nearly  got  my  jaw 
broke  last  night  at  the  fraternity  smoker.  I'm 
only  a  freshman,  and  unfortunately  the  man  who 
was  serving  you  wine  was  a  senior.  Don't  you 
ever  let  another  drink  go  down  your  throat  as 
long  as  you  live !'  he  urged — and  I  promised." 

"Who  was  that  man?  Did  you  learn  his 
name?"  asked  Updyke. 

"Yes — Drury  Villard,"  sighed  the  witness.  "He 
did  not  drink,  and  had  his  senses  about  him.  If 
I  had  stuck  to  his  advice,  this  situation  would 
never  have  come  about." 


196  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

A  blank  expression  came  over  the  face  of  Up- 
dyke  when  the  name  of  Villard  was  spoken.  In  a 
brown  study  he  paced  the  concrete  floor  for 
several  moments,  then  suddenly  he  turned  toward 
his  operatives  and  dismissed  them  from  the  room. 

"The  inquiry  will  be  private  between  this  man 
and  myself — except  the  stenographers,  who  will 
make  of  this  case  a  separate  verbatim  report. 
They  will  be  kept  on  file  for  further  reference," 
growled  Updyke,  scowling  at  Parkins. 

When  the  door  was  shut  upon  the  operatives, 
Parkins,  relieved,  again  took  up  the  history  of 
his  life. 

"The  upshot  of  my  meeting  with  Drury " 

"Mister  Villard!"  corrected  Updyke.  "You 
have  forfeited,  many  times  over,  his  respect  for 
you.  He  is  no  longer  an  intimate  friend  of  yours 
— now  proceed." 

"Mr.  Villard  got  me  a  place  in  an  office  down- 
town— an  investment  company,  now  merged  with 
another  concern.  There  is  where  I  learned  to 
figure  in  a  financial  way.  I " 

"Yes — and  you  stole  a  ten-dollar  bill,  and  was 
caught  at  it!"  bellowed  Updyke,  breaking  in  on 
the  testimony.  "Don't  miss  anything — I  know 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         197 

your  record,  and  it  won't  hurt  you  to  refresh  your 
memory  of  your  rascality." 

Parkins  winced,  but  he  had  no  courage  with 
which  to  combat  his  interrogator. 

"That  one  overt  act  made  an  honest  man  of 
me  for  several  years.  When  Drury — I  mean  Mr. 
Villard — came  out  of  college  as  a  graduate,  he 
returned  to  New  York,  bent  on  going  into  a  busi- 
ness that  was  entirely  new.  We  met  on  Broad- 
way one  day,  and  he  was  very  cordial.  He  asked 
all  about  myself  and  I  told  him  I  was  still  at  the 
old  place." 

"Didn't  tell  him  about  the  ten  spot,  though — 
did  you?"  leered  Updyke,  intentionally.  He 
would  leave  no  loophole  for  sentimental  non- 
sense by  which  Parkins  might  try  to  crawl  back 
into  his  good  graces. 

"No,"  said  the  witness,  dully.  "I  had  learned 
a  lesson  that  I  thought  unforgetable.  I  had  be- 
come an  honest  man,  and  I  would  be  yet — only 
for  drink,"  he  added,  sadly. 

"Yes — and  for  drugs,  and  bad  companions,  and 
the  natural-born  tendencies  of  a  crook,"  snarled 
Updyke. 

"Perhaps    so,"    responded    Parkins    wearily. 


198  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"As  I  was  going  to  say,  I  met  Mr.  Villard,  and 
after  a  most  friendly  conversation  he  seemed  to 
think  I  was  the  right  man  to  help  steer  the  new 
organization  he  had  in  contemplation.  His  mind 
was  that  of  a  dreamer  of  great  projects,  while  my 
own  was  full  of  the  figures  with  which  to  carry 
out  big  financial  undertakings.  I  had  practical 
experience  against  his  theoretical  college  train- 
ing. We  were  well  met,  at  the  time.  He  had  per- 
sonality and  tremendous  energy,  to  say  nothing 
of  wealthy  acquaintances — fathers  of  his  college 
chums.  So  he — 

"Yes— I  follow,"  said  Updyke.  "He  took 
you  in  as  an  expert  in  financial  figures,  and  made 
you  treasurer,  also  gave  you  his  whole  hearted 
support  in  every  way,  and  finally  gave  up  active 
work  in  the  business,  thus  practically  turning  it 
over  to  you  to  run,"  sneered  Updyke.  "But  that 
is  all  off  now.  You  are  done  for — where  you  will 
land  is  not  yet  decided  upon.  But  you  may  be  well 
assured  that  you  will  miss  the  golden  opportun- 
ity that  was  yours  only  a  short  while  back.  You 
are  a  failure — a  dishonest,  worthless  drunkard !" 
concluded  the  big  fellow  who  now  advanced  to  a 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         199 

position  where  he  could  look  into  Parkins'  eyes 
and  fill  them  with  fear. 

The  witness,  already  faint  from  Updyke's  re- 
lentless tongue  lashing,  wavered  in  his  chair, 
though  making  great  effort  to  steady  himself. 
He  craved  a  stimulant — wine,  beer,  whisky — any- 
thing to  quench  the  parching  thirst  within  him. 
At  this  point  Updyke  handed  him  a  drink  of  cool 
water,  and  he  swallowed  it  down  at  a  gulp.  The 
effect  was  carefully  noted,  the  demeanor  of  Par- 
kins almost  immediately  changing  back  to  nor- 
mal. He  asked  for  another  and  that  was  given 
to  him.  Then  he  sat  up,  quite  refreshed,  and  in- 
dicated that  he  was  ready  to  proceed. 

"Did  you  ever  consider  the  fact  that  water  is 
one  of  nature's  greatest  stimulants?"  queried 
Updyke. 

"I  never  thought  of  it  as  a  stimulant,  but 
rather  as  a  necessity,"  was  Parkins'  reply. 

"Now  then,  I'll  ask  you  a  question  that  might 
help  you  if  you  ever  test  its  meaning.  You  have 
just  drank  two  glasses  of  cool,  fresh  water — 
would  you  care  to  take  a  drink  of  liquor  on  top  of 
them?  Would  your  appetite  call  for  whisky, 
now,  if  you  saw  it  before  you?" 


200  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Parkins  carefully  considered  the  matter,  re- 
maining in  deep  thought  for  several  moments,  as 
he  analyzed  his  desire  for  strong  drink. 

"No,  I  wouldn't  care  for  any  sort  of  liquor,  at 
the  moment,"  he  replied.  "I  seem  to  have  ap- 
peased my  thirst  for  the  present." 

"Then  why  not  drink  your  fill  of  water  the  next 
time  your  stomach  craves  an  intoxicant,"  sug- 
gested Updyke.  "Of  course  your  dissipation  has 
undermined  your  powers  of  resistance  and  you 
might  have  some  trouble  at  first — but  it's  worth 
a  try-out.  Anyhow  you  will  be  afforded  the  op- 
portunity," suggested  the  big  fellow. 

At  this  point  of  the  "inquisition  Updyke  found 
himself  approaching  the  main  issue — the  affair 
concerning  Winifred  Barbour.  All  else  had  been 
more  or  less  the  paving  of  the  way  to  that  sub- 
ject, and  taking  the  combativeness  out  of  the  wit- 
ness. Now  the  time  had  come  when  Updyke  felt 
compelled  to  take  the  chance.  Parkins'  testi- 
mony was  necessary  to  his  plans,  and  if  success- 
fully brought  out  the  case  against  the  man  him- 
self was  "nailed  down  and  copper  riveted,"  a 
time-worn  expression,  that  Updyke  often  used. 
Before  starting  on  the  subject  he  drew  a  table 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         201 

between  himself  and  the  witness,  and  placed 
upon  it  an  automatic  revolver.  This  action  very 
naturally  caused  Parkins  to  look  up  in  alarm, 
and  also  the  stenographers. 

"No  one  need  be  afraid  of  that  little  thirty- 
eight.  It's  harmless,"  said  Updyke.  "I've  carried 
it  for  years  and  have  never  shot  any  one  with  it 
— yet.  But  I  am  always  prepared  to  use  it  in- 
stantly, as  I  carry  it  in  a  hidden  holster  just 
under  the  left  side  of  my  coat.  Now  I  am  going 
to  leave  it  there,  in  plain  view  on  the  table,  at 
present,  for  I  am  about  to  question  the  witness 
concerning  his  intentions  toward  a  certain  young 
woman,  on  a  certain  day,  not  long  since.  The 
name  of  the  girl  is  not  to  be  spoken.  Parkins  will 
speak  of  her  as  'the  girl,'  and  the  stenographers 
will  write  it  that  way.  If  Parkins,  either  by  acci- 
dent or  design,  speaks  her  name  I'll  shoot  him  the 
moment  he  utters  it !  What  I  am  now  saying  is 
a  personal  matter,  and  must  not  go  into  the  rec- 
ord. When  I  hold  up  my  hands  the  recorders 
will  proceed." 

Immediately  Updyke  raised  his  hand. 

"Now  then,  Parkins,  I  want  nothing  but  the 
truth  out  of  you.  Lying  will  be  your  undoing, 


202  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

if  you  expect  clemency.  You  remember  the  day 
of  the  accident?" 

"Yes,  sir — I  do,"  replied  the  witness. 

"A  few  days  before  that  you  invited  the  girl, 
and  her  father,  to  take  a  trip  to  New  York  with 
you  in  your  automobile,  did  you  not?" 

"I  did,  sir.  They  had  never  been  to  New  York, 
and  being  friends  of  long  standing  I  invited  them 
to  go  in  my  car — and  the  date  was  set." 

"Why  do  you  sit  there  and  lie  in  answer  to  my 
first  question !"  yelled  Updyke,  his  face  denoting 
extreme  anger. 

Parkins  grew  pale  at  the  sudden  fury  of  his 
inquisitor. 

"I  meant  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  replied 
meekly. 

"Parkins,  your  habit  of  lying  is  constitutional. 
Maybe  you  don't  know  how  to  speak  the  truth — 
even  under  oath.  You  said  the  girl  and  her 
father  were  old  friends  of  yours,  didn't  you?" 

"That  was  a  mistake — unintentional,"  said 
Parkins,  now  thoroughly  alarmed. 

"You  had  known  them  for  about  six  weeks," 
snapped  Updyke.  "No  more  lying,  or  there  will 
be  some  one  hung  up  by  the  thumbs  so  he  will 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         203 

remember  to  tell  the  truth  thereafter.  Now  then 
— I'll  ask  you  to  tell  me  how  and  when  you 
got  acquainted  with  her?" 

"I  bought  some  cakes,  and  pies,  at  her  stand  on 
the  motor  parkway  at  Patchogue,"  said  the  wit- 
ness. 

"Started  in  by  kidding  her,  didn't  you?" 

"Perhaps — I  don't  quite  recall,"  replied  Par- 
kins, mystified  as  to  Updyke's  source  of  informa- 
tion. 

"Yes  you  do  recall — and  you  also  remember 
apologizing  to  her  for  calling  her  'little  sister' — 
now  don't  you?  Speak  up — say  yes  or  no," 
growled  the  big  fellow,  as  he  stared  the  witness 
out  of  countenance. 

"Yes" — replied  the  witness,  his  face  now  al- 
most purple. 

"You  have  a  so-called  hut  on  the  ocean  side — 
did  you  ever  drive  her  out  that  way?" 

"Yes — once." 

"Showed  her  all  the  conveniences,  too — didn't 
you? — the  kitchenette  and  everything?" 

"I  presume  I  did — that  would  have  been  the 
natural  thing,"  replied  Parkins. 

"You  really  think  so— eh?    Don't  you  know 


204  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

that  you  are  lying  again?  Well,  now,  you  quit 
that  stuff!  I  wasn't  born  yesterday,"  snarled 
Updyke  as  his  eyes  sought  those  of  the  man  on 
the  witness  stand. 

"Now  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  question,"  he 
continued,  "that  is  going  to  stagger  you! — 
what  were  your  intentions  toward  her  had  you 
got  her  safely  to  New  York?  Be  careful — 
say  nothing  but  the  truth !" 

Updyke's  steady  eyes  caused  Parkins  to  shut 
his  own  and  consider  well  before  answering. 
How  his  persecutor  could  know  so  much  was  be- 
yond his  power  to  reckon.  But  he  had  to  answer. 
The  question  was  categorical. 

"I  meant  to  marry  her,"  he  blurted. 

"Open  your  guilty  eyes  and  tell  me  that  again," 
shouted  Updyke,  bending  over  the  table  where 
lay  the  automatic.  "It  was  to  be  a  mock  mar- 
riage— now  wasn't  it? — 'poor  little  country 
maid !'  Do  you  remember  your  maudlin  conver- 
sation with  yourself  in  your  apartment  the  morn- 
ing you  were  fired  out  of  Dreamy  Hollow?  Of 
course  you  do — and  only  an  act  of  God  saved  her 
from  experiencing  a  try-out  of  your  scheme.  You 
had  won  her  trust,  and  that  of  her  father,  who 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         205 

was  to  be  allowed  to  'drift' — wasn't  he?  Zim's 
Midnight  Inn  was  a  fine  place  to  sup  and  drink — 
and  tempt !  you — scoundrel ! — but  God  saved  the 
girl  by  upsetting  your  car — her  father  is  at 
death's  door!" 

"Oh,  merciful  heaven — stop  this  cruel  torment ! 
I  am  going  crazy !  I'm " 

But  Parkins  could  go  no  further.  He  put  his 
face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed,  while  Updyke 
pulled  forth  a  long  black  cigar  and  lighted  it. 
He  was  "dying"  for  a  smoke,  and  now  was  his 
chance.  The  stenographers,  used  as  they  were 
to  "third  degree"  work,  showed  signs  of  pity  for 
the  wretched  man  on  the  stand.  They  watched 
Updyke,  too,  and  saw  him  touch  a  button  on  the 
wall  near  the  door.  Then  they  saw  him  go  to  a 
speaking  tube  and  heard  him  say — "Send  him 
in.  .  .  ." 

During  the  interim  Parkins  never  lifted  his 
head,  until  he  heard  the  rasping  noise  of  the  steel 
door  as  it  opened  and  closed.  When  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  see  what  was  going  on,  there  stood  his 
valet  and  man  of  all  work,  talking  with  Up- 
dyke. They  shook  hands  cordially  and  stood 
near  the  door,  talking  to  each  other  for  several 


206  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

minutes.  By  that  time  Parkins,  red  eyed  and 
sullen,  had  assumed  an  air  of  defiance.  His  own 
man  had  trapped  him,  and  a  desire  to  kill  crept 
into  his  mind.  There  lay  the  automatic — one 
jump  would  be  sufficient,  and  it  would  be  "all 
off"  with  Updyke !  A  wonderful  chance,  and  he 
would  take  it — but  his  mind  moved  slowly.  Up- 
dyke, standing  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  knew 
his  thoughts  and  laughed  at  him,  mockingly — 

"No  use,  Parkins — it  isn't  loaded.  Here's  it's 
mate,"  he  said,  flashing  it  quickly,  "and  it's 
all  set  for  action." 

Then,  walking  toward  the  table,  he  picked  up 
the  other  weapon  and  emptied  it  of  six  cart- 
ridges, and  put  them  in  his  pocket, 

"It  was  loaded,  after  all,"  said  he.  "Very  care- 
less of  me — eh — Parkins?  Allow  me  to  intro- 
duce you  to  one  of  our  most  valuable  operatives — 
Mr.  Parkins — Mr.  Michael  Curran.  He  says  you 
have  the  best  equipped  sideboard  in  the  city." 

Parkins  was  dumfounded. 

The  trusted  servant  was  an  Updyke  "plant," 
and  his  case  now  seemed  hopeless.  There  was 
nothing  to  say,  and  his  eyes  sought  the  floor. 

"Look  up,  and  face  the  music,"  nagged  the  re- 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         207 

lentless  Updyke.  "A  brave  fellow  like  you  who 
connives  against  young  women  and  sickly  fathers 
surely  must  be  a  courageous  man!  What  were 
your  real  intentions  toward  that  girl?"  yelled  the 
big  fellow,  pointing  his  finger  at  the  wilted  Par- 
kins. 

"I  had  no  real  plan,"  said  he  finally.  "I  was 
sober  when  I  took  her  into  my  car,  and  I  meant 
to  keep  sober.  No  man  in  his  right  mind  would 
offer  insult  to  an  innocent  girl." 

"Is  that  so! — then  why  did  you,  absolutely 
sober,  and  after  ten  days  in  bed  with  a  wounded 
scalp — kidnap  her  and  start  for  Herman's  Koad- 
house?"  snarled  Updyke.  "For  the  sake  of  coun- 
terfeiting respectability  the  name  has  been 
changed  to  fool  decent  people.  It  is  called  a 
social  club — bah!" 

"I — I — ah — or  rather  I  should  say — we  were 
eloping — we  were  going  to  be  married !  She  and 
I  are  engaged,  and " 

"Stop  right  where  you  are !  Now  I  want  you 
to  look  me  squarely  in  the  eye  and  tell  me  that 
lie  over  again." 

Updyke's  lowering  face  at  once  took  on  the  look 
of  a  demon.  His  right  hand  stole  slowly  under 


208  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

the  left  side  of  his  coat  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  be 
turning  green. 

"It  was  a  lie !  Don't  shoot  me !  I'll  tell  the 
truth,  sir,"  screamed  the  witness.  "You  already 
know  every  move,  every  thought,  every  act — 
what's  the  use?  Do  what  you  will  but  don't  ask 
more  questions — I'm  done  for!"  he  ended,  as  he 
swooned  and  fell  forward,  but  Updyke  caught 
him  in  time  to  save  him  from  injury. 

The  erstwhile  "valet,"  stepped  forward  and 
helped  to  lift  the  limp  body  to  the  table  in  front 
of  him,  the  barrier  that  had  stood  between  him 
and  his  tormentor. 

"The  jig  is  up !"  said  Updyke,  grimly,  two  big 
tears  rolling  down  his  rugged  cheeks.  "We  have 
it  all.  His  guilt  cannot  be  questioned.  And 
that's  the  only  reason  why  the  so-called  third- 
degree  inquisitions  are  to  be  tolerated.  Slap 
cold  water  on  his  face.  He'll  come  out  of  it  in  a 
minute  or  so/' 

Turning  to  Curran,  he  whispered — "Stay  with 
him,  and  when  he  is  fully  aroused  help  him  up 
to  my  suite  upstairs  and  put  a  guard  in  with  him. 
He  can't  get  out,  but  he  needs  company,"  said 
he  significantly.  "I'm  going  out  to  Dreamy  Hoi- 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         209 

low  as  soon  as  I  get  first  copies  of  the  testimony. 
Order  my  car  around  as  soon  as  you  can — no 
hurry — tell  Miss  Johnson  to  phone  for  it  to  be 
ready  in  an  hour." 

With  that  the  big  fellow  left  the  "star  cham- 
ber" with  its  windowless  walls  and  concrete  floor, 
a  sigh  of  relief  escaping  from  between  his  yawn- 
ing jaws.  He  was  tired,  dead  tired,  and  victory 
won,  left  no  feeling  of  elation  in  his  breast. 

"Justice  is  hell  for  some  and  joy  for  others," 
said  he  to  himself  as  he  stole  his  way  through  to 
the  private  door  into  his  office.  Updyke's  mind 
was  upon  the  man  that  had  collapsed  under  his 
lash  and  the  cruelty  of  it  had  left  its  imprint 
upon  his  own  heart. 

A  few  hours  later  he  was  welcomed  by  the  mas- 
ter of  Dreamy  Hollow. 

"I've  come  to  stay  until  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. I  need  a  day  off,"  said  Updyke,  as  he 
grasped  the  welcoming  hand  of  Drury  Villard. 
"I'm  all  in  and  I  want  to  go  to  bed  at  once." 

Villard  scrutinized  him  carefully,  and  decided 
that  his  friend  and  guest  knew  what  was  best  for 
himself. 


210  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"I'd  planned  for  a  lively  evening — what  is  the 
news  of  the  day?  Did  you " 

"Yes — here  it  is,  all  typewritten,  and  will 
afford  you  an  evening  of  varying  emotions.  Show 
me  a  room — that's  all  I  ask.  To-morrow  we  will 
both  be  fresh,  and  will  talk  things  over.  No  food 
— I  snacked  in  my  office,"  said  the  master  inquisi- 
tor. 

And  so  it  was  settled,  and  a  short  time  there- 
after Villard  sat  alone  in  his  office,  reading  the 
testimony  of  his  old-time  friend,  now  a  self-con- 
fessed pariah,  and  a  conscienceless  scoundrel. 
When  he  had  finished  his  lips  trembled,  and  his 
heart  cried  out  against  the  villainy  of  his  once 
trusted  partner.  He  now  loathed  him  as  he 
would  a  viper,  and  there  was  nothing  left  in  his 
bosom  but  abhorrence.  In  his  present  mood,  good 
man  that  he  was,  Villard  felt  that  he  could  have 
looked  on  without  mercy  while  the  low  creature 
was  strung  up  and  tortured. 

"No  wonder  Henry  left,  and  went  to  his  bed," 
he  mumbled  to  himself.  "Case  hardened  as  he 
is  to  crime  and  malevolence,  his  soul  has  been 
seared  with  the  events  of  this  day." 

Villard  arose  to  his  feet  and  slipped  quietly 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE         211 

out  into  the  night,  where  his  heated  brain  could 
be  cooled  and  his  senses  restored.  He  hurried  on 
toward  the  beach  as  if  bewildered,  caring  naught 
for  the  bats  that  darted  in  front  of  him,  and  the 
limbs  of  bushes  which  swung  back  and  whipped 
his  face.  The  Parkins'  confession  stood  out  as 
might  a  picture  of  Herod  cleaving  the  heads  of 
helpless  babes,  and  watching  their  writhing 
bodies  as  they  fell  at  his  feet. 

What  Villard  would  have  done,  or  where  he 
would  have  gone  in  his  madness  to  rid  himself  of 
his  obsession  was  a  matter  of  conjecture,  but  for 
a  terrible  coughing  spell  on  the  part  of  some 
person  just  ahead  of  him.  It  was  Alexander 
Barbour,  bundled  from  head  to  foot  against  the 
chill  of  the  night,  who  stumbled  along  the  same 
path,  only  a  few  yards  in  advance.  His  walk 
was  painful,  and  his  voice  hollow  and  unreal  as 
he  cried — "I  want  to  go  home  to  die !" 

This  dismal  wail  brought  Villard  back  to  his 
senses,  and  he  ran  forward  in  time  to  catch  the 
man  in  his  arms.  For  a  moment  there  was  a 
struggle  but  Barbour  was  too  feeble  to  resist. 

"You  shall  go  to-morrow,"  whispered  Villard, 
"and  your  daughter  will  go  with  you.  The  time 


212  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

has  come  when  it  will  be  safe  for  her  to  return 
to  her  native  town,  and  I  shall  take  you  both 
home  in  the  morning.  I  know  how  you  feel,  and 
I  sympathize.  Come,  let  us  go  back  into  the 
warmth  of  your  room." 

Some  hours  previously  Winifred  had  helped 
her  father  into  his  bed,  and  stood  over  him,  while 
rubbing  his  forehead  and  chafing  his  icy  hands. 
She  had  placed  a  small  electric  heater  at  his  feet. 

"They  feel  like  lumps  of  ice,"  he  complained, 
but  to  the  soft  touch  of  Winifred's  hands  upon 
his  forehead  he  succumbed  to  nature's  balm — 
sleep  without  pain. 

For  half  an  hour  she  stayed  beside  him,  and 
then  as  his  hands  relaxed  and  his  breathing  be- 
came normal,  she  knelt  and  prayed  for  his  resto- 
ration to  health  and  happiness. 

Then  she  went  to  her  room,  but  on  returning 
a  few  minutes  later  the  bed  was  empty — her 
father  had  gone.  She  notified  Santzi  at  once, 
who  gave  the  alarm,  but  when  all  hands  had 
taken  up  the  search,  they  came  upon  Villard  and 
with  him  was  the  night-clad  figure  of  Winifred's 
father.  There  was  much  in  the  way  of  specula- 
tion as  to  the  result  of  the  sick  man's  adventure, 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE  213 

but  the  night  nurse,  arriving  soon  afterward,  said 
that  his  effort  to  help  himself  might  turn  out  to 
his  advantage. 

All  through  the  excitement,  Updyke  slept  on 
unknowing,  but  Winifred  and  Villard  sat  out  on 
the  moonlit  veranda  and  talked  of  the  plans  for 
the  morrow.  He  felt  that  she  should  be  told  of 
Parkins'  "detention"  pending  further  develop- 
ments, but  in  no  way  did  he  intimate  the  happen- 
ings at  the  Updyke  inquiry. 

"I  think  your  father  should  go  back  to  his  old 
home  at  Patchogue  for  a  time.  This  place  palls 
upon  him  and  he  will  never  be  happy  here.  You 
must  go  with  him,  of  course,  and  I  shall  ride 
over  every  day  or  so  to  see  how  he  is  getting  on. 
We  must  not  allow  him  to  die  from  longing  for 
his  old  home,  where  your  mother  lived  and  died. 
That's  his  trouble — and  if  I  were  in  his  place 
I'd  feel  just  as  he  does." 

"I  believe  you  have  solved  his  problem,  and  I 
am  very  glad  you  have  thought  it  all  out  for  us. 
We  are  plain  country  folk,  and  fairyland  is  too 
much  for  us.  Indeed  we  have  grown  in  experi- 
ence since  we  left  our  little  country  home.  But 
our  country  eyes  have  been  opened  to  the  love 


214  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

we  feel  for  our  native  town  and  its  people.  There 
is  where  we  belong,"  said  Winifred,  dreamily,  as 
her  face  broke  out  into  smiles. 

"You  shall  have  your  wish,  dear  child,"  said 
he,  gently.  "There  is  nothing  that  I  would  deny 
you." 

"But  you  wouldn't  live  there,"  bantered  Wini- 
fred, throwing  back  her  head  and  laughing  at  the 
idea.  "We'll  wait  and  see  how  you  hold  to  your 
resolution  to  'ride  over  every  day  or  so.'  My, 
how  my  friends  would  get  together  and  gossip ! 
I  just  dare  you  to  try  it,"  she  gurgled,  as  she  held 
out  her  hand  and  bade  her  host  good  night. 

"No — you  don't  get  off  that  easy,"  said  Vil- 
lard,  striving  to  catch  her  up  in  his  arms,  but 
she  escaped  through  the  door  of  her  father's 
chamber  and  tiptoed  in  to  see  if  he  was  resting 
comfortably. 

"All  is  well,"  she  whispered  on  her  return, 
looking  up  into  Villard's  eyes — "so  you  may  re- 
turn to  your  den,  Mr.  Lion — it's  bedtime  for 
me !"  she  laughed,  as  she  started  to  go. 

"And  kissing  time  for  me,"  laughed  Villard, 
reaching  out  as  if  to  take  her  in  his  arms. 

"No,  sir — this  is  the  kind  of  kiss  you  shall 


THE  THIRD  DEGREE  215 

have,"  cried  Winifred,  as  she  put  her  arms  about 
his  neck  and  her  lips  upon  his  forehead.  Then 
she  blushed,  and  sighed,  a  shyness  creeping  into 
her  eyes. 

"Only  a  kiss  on  my  forehead ! — not  surely " 

"If  I  ever  do  kiss  a  man  on  the  lips  it  will  be 
the  one  to  whom  I  am  wedded — not  before,"  said 
she,  her  face  lighted  with  honest  conviction. 

"Don't  forget  that  I  am  going  out  Patchogue 
/way  very  often,  in  the  future,"  he  warned. 

"I  am  sure  my  father  alid  I  will  be  ever  so 
proud  if  you  will  come  to  our  home  as  often  as 
you  can,"  replied  Winifred,  as  prettily  she 
dropped  him  a  curtsey  in  a  quaint,  old-fashioned 
way. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WINIFRED   MEETS    UPDYKE 

NEXT  morning  Henry  Updyke  was  literally 
up  with  the  larks,  and  there  were  plenty  of  them 
about  the  premises  of  Dreamy  Hollow. 

At  six  o'clock  he  betook  himself  into  the  open 
for  a  morning  stroll.  Winifred  was  also  astir,  for 
the  call  of  Patchogue  was  in  her  heart,  and  she 
must  be  ready.  But  it  was  far  too  early  to  arouse 
the  household,  so  now  was  her  opportunity  to 
once  more  behold  the  dreamland  from  which  she 
would  soon  be  on  her  way.  To  the  beach  and 
back  was  her  first  intention,  as  vivid  memories 
clustered  about  its  sandy  slope,  where  she  had 
gazed  far  out  beyond  the  bay  to  the  very  ocean 
itself,  and  dreamed  of  "Castles  in  Spain."  And 
now  she  would  look  for  those  castles  again,  and 
the  cliffs  of  Fort  Hancock,  over  Sandy  Hook 
way,  easily  seen  from  the  place  where  she  sat  on 
the  day  of  her  startling  adventure.  Fearful  of 

the  dew  damp  of  early  morning  she  took  the 

216 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    217 

inside  path  and  was  soon  at  the  waters'  edge. 
And  now  she  sat  down,  oblivious  to  all  save  the 
waters,  which  moaned  as  they  came  in  great 
waves,  and  sang  as  they  splashed  in  diabolic  fury 
and  broke  into  gems  of  rainbow  hue.  And  there 
was  no  one  to  disturb  the  thoughts  within  hei 
mind,  for  which  she  was  glad,  only  to  turn  her 
face  toward  the  west,  and  there  stood  a  huge 
man,  calmly  looking  down  upon  her. 

"Don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  big  fellow, 
smiling  down  upon  her.  "You  surely  have  not 
forgotten  your  father's  friend,  who  used  to  hold 
you  on  his  knee  and  tell  you  stories,  and  bring 
you  books  from  the  city." 

"Mr.  Updyke !"  gasped  Winifred,  looking  guilt- 
ily into  his  smiling  face,  then  suddenly  she  ex- 
claimed— "I've  seen  you  but  recently,  have  I 
not?" 

"Yes — but  you  can't  guess  when  and  where," 
he  laughingly  replied,  at  which  the  girl  looked 
far  out  to  sea  and  pondered. 

"Of  course  I  can,  only  it  must  have  been  a 
dream.  Indeed,  I  saw  you  in  a  dream.  You,  and 
another  man,  whom  I  had  never  seen,  stood  be- 
fore me.  You  said  something  about  it  being 


218  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

time  for  me  to  get  up  and  prepare  breakfast  for 
father.  And  something  about  opening  up  the 
stand — now  isn't  that  true?" 

"Practically,  those  were  my  words.  You  had 
slept  entirely  too  long,  so  I  tried  a  little  trick  on 
you  and  it  worked  for  an  instant.  Then  you  went 
back  to  sleep.  It  is  dangerous  to  sleep  too  long. 
Who  do  you  think  was  with  me?" 

"Another  man.  I  haven't  seen  him  since.  It 
wasn't  the  doctor?" 

"No,  it  was  Mr.  Villard,"  replied  Updyke, 
watching  the  effect  of  his  words.  "I  never  saw 
a  man  so  anxious  in  my  life." 

"Oh,  isn't  he  the  dearest  soul!  I  just  love 
him — he  has  been  so  kind  to  father  and  me,  and 
he  is  going  to  run  us  over  home  this  morning  in 
his  car.  We  are  leaving  to-day  for  good,  and  we 
may  never  see  New  York  after  all,"  she  con- 
cluded, shaking  her  head  sadly. 

"You'll  have  a  different  driver  next  time  than 
the  one  you  started  out  with,"  suggested  Updyke, 
dryly,  as  Winifred  looked  down  at  the  sand  and 
revolved  a  certain  question  that  she  had  in  mind. 
It  concerned  Parkins'  whereabouts,  but  she  did 
not  ever  want  to  speak  his  name  again. 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    219 

"Where  is  he  now?"  she  asked,  briefly,  but 
without  malice  in  the  tone  of  her  voice. 

"Probably  in  New  York  somewhere,"  replied 
Updyke.  "I  don't  think  he  will  try  any  more 
'elopements'  for  the  present." 

Winifred  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"Is  that  what  he  calls  an  elopement?"  she 
asked,  blushing  deeply.  "I  thought  elopements 
were  by  mutual  understandings.  Are  they  not?" 

"That's  what  they  use  to  mean  before  Bill 
Parkins  set  the  new  fashion,"  he  laughed,  as  she 
looked  up  and  caught  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"I  hope  you  see  something  besides  humor  in 
his  actions,"  she  replied  quite  soberly,  after  a 
lengthy  pause. 

Updyke  saw  at  once  that  Winifred  Barbour's 
old-fashioned  purity  of  heart  and  mind  had  been 
in  no  way  affected  by  her  sad  experience. 

"Now  I've  gone  and  said  something  that  I 
didn't  mean,"  said  he  quickly.  "No  girl,  with  a 
mother  like  you  had,  will  ever  need  a  champion 
for  her  code.  She  will  maintain  that  standard 
through  life.  What  time  are  you  leaving  for 
home?"  queried  the  big  man. 

"About  nine,  I  believe." 


220  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Then  we  had  better  turn  back,"  said  Updyke 
reaching  for  Winifred's  hand  and  helping  her  to 
her  feet.  "I  think  you  will  never  have  oc2asion 
to  worry  about  Parkins  in  the  future.  I  believe 
that  he  has  gone  out  of  your  life  forever,"  he 
concluded,  looking  testily  into  her  face. 

But  Winifred  needed  no  coaching  to  that  ef- 
fect. "All  the  king's  horses"  could  never  put  the 
man  Parkins  back  into  her  life.  But  she  said 
nothing  on  that  score  to  the  big  man  trudging 
along  beside  her.  Finally  she  asked — 

"Do  you  know  much  about  this  matter,  Mr. 
Updyke?" 

"Just  a  trifle,"  he  replied.  "I  heard  a  rumor 
now  and  then  about  the  case,  but  it's  been  kept 
so  quiet  that  your  neighbors  won't  have  an  ink- 
ling of  it  when  you  get  back.  They  only  know 
of  the  accident,  so  if  I  were  you  I'd  say  nothing 
about  anything  else.  You  wouldn't  want  your 
picture  in  the  paper  and  a  great  'howdye  do' 
kicked  up  with  your  name  in  it — now  would 
you?"  asked  Updyke,  stopping  in  order  to  im- 
press her  mind  upon  certain  angles  of  the  case. 

"Of  course  not — I  should  simply  wilt  and  die 
if  my  name  should  be  printed  in  the  newspapers." 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    221 

"Naturally  so,  and  no  matter  how  innocent  you 
really  are,  there  are  those  who  would  enlarge  the 
matter  into  scandal,  if  we  fail  to  adopt  a  cer- 
tain plan/'  said  he,  gently.  "Now  listen  care- 
fully, little  girl.  Everybody  in  Patchogue  knows 
that  Parkins'  car  was  ditched  and  that  you  had 
a  close  call — also  your  father — and  that  Parkins 
was  almost  killed.  They  know  that  you  were 
taken  into  the  Villard  home,  and  that  you  are 
all  right  and  will  soon -be  home.  Julie  Hayes  has 
been  faithful  to  you  and  your  booth  is  well 
cared  for.  Now — remember  this — no  one  must 
know  about  the  other  episode — the  abduction. 
If  that  ever  raises  its  head  you  will  never  live  it 
down  in  your  life,  no  matter  where  you  might 
go — and  you  are  the  one  to  tell  your  father  the 
consequences  of  confiding  with  any  living  soul." 

"I  will  merely  speak  of  the  accident,  and  I 
will  warn  father  to  do  the  same,"  said  Winifred, 
looking  gratefully  up  into  the  big  man's  eyes. 

"That's  the  idea — all  you  will  talk  about  is 
the  accident,  and,  if  ever  anything  else  is  hinted 
at,  just  ask  what  that  person  means,  and  never 
acknowledge  a  word  of  truth  that  may  be  uttered 
as  hearsay.  You  had  an  accident,  and  it  laid 


222  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

you  up,  but  you  have  fully  recovered  and  the 
whole  matter  is  in  the  past  and  practically 
forgotten." 

Winifred  now  understood  the  program  fully, 
and  made  up  her  mind  to  follow  instructions 
literally.  And  she  vowed  that  her  father  would 
do  the  same.  Then,  suddenly,  she  thought  of 
young  Mr.  Carver,  but  hesitated  to  bring  up 
his  name.  At  last  she  determined  that  she  must 
be  instructed  on  that  point. 

"What  about  Mr.  Carver?"  she  asked  ner- 
vously. 

"No  worry  in  that  direction — he  is  a  sworn 
officer  of  the  law  and  is  fond  of  certain  people 
who  would  be  sorry  to  be  involved  in  a  story, 
even  in  a  small  way.  He  is  one  of  the  finest 
young  men  I  know,  and  he  is  progressing  rap- 
idly in  all  ways.  Some  day  he  will  be  a  rich 
man.  He  is  brainy,  and  coming  to  the  front  all 
over  Long  Island.  He  may  go  far!"  concluded 
Updyke,  who  knew  the  value  of  good  friendship 
toward  a  man  who  aspired. 

"I — I  am  ever  so  glad  you  have  talked  to  me 
about  all  these  matters,  and  now  please  tell  me 
who  you  are  so  I'll  know  why  you  have  interested 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    223 

yourself  in  our  behalf,"  said  Winifred,  her  voice 
reflecting  her  real  thoughts. 

She  had  no  artifice  by  which  to  speak  with 
double  meaning. 

"Oh,  I  am  a  friend  of  Mr.  Villard's,  and  he 
and  I  would  naturally  pull  together.  He  is  a 
fine  man,  but  the  dear  fellow  is  lonesome.  Too 
bad  he  doesn't  marry  some  sweet  natured  home 
body  that  would  love  him,  and  drive  away  the 
solitude  of  this  wonderful  place,"  replied  Up- 
dyke,  waving  his  hand  at  the  well  kept  premises. 

They  were  now  at  the  east  entrance  of  the 
stately  home  and  he  opened  the  door  for  her  to 
enter. 

"I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again,  sir — some  time. 
You  have  been  exceedingly  kind  and  I  promise 
to  act  upon  your  suggestions." 

Then  she  added,  "I  am  glad  you  are  a  good 
friend  of  Mr.  Villard's.  He  needs  companion- 
ship." 

A  little  later  on,  with  herself  and  father 
already  seated  comfortably  in  Villard's  smart 
touring  car,  she  was  surprised  when  Mr. 
Updyke  got  in  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  sit 
beside  Mr.  Barbour.  This  change  brought  Vil- 


224  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

lard  into  the  seat  beside  Winifred.  But  she 
thought  she  saw  the  reason  for  it  by  the 
way  Updyke  brought  the  sick  man  out  of  his 
doldrums. 

"You  are  going  to  feel  a  lot  better  when  you 
get  back  to  your  old  haunts,"  said  he,  affably. 
"When  a  man  spends  a  lifetime  in  one  place, 
there  is  where  his  heart  belongs.  He  should  sel- 
dom leave  it — your  world  is  there,"  said  Updyke, 
by  way  of  getting  acquainted. 

And  then  he  began  to  point  out  various  in- 
teresting spots,  with  something  historical  about 
them  which  caused  neighboring  householders  to 
think  with  pride  upon  their  wonderful  locations. 
In  fact,  the  big  fellow  took  Alexander  Barbour's 
mind  away  from  his  troubles  and  made  him  feel 
how  well  he  would  be  in  a  few  days  when  he  got 
back  into  the  tang  of  the  salt  air  at  good  old 
Patchogue.  Winifred  marveled  at  the  manner 
by  which  this  stranger  could  so  install  himself 
in  one's  good  graces.  These  same  scenes  along 
the  parkway  interested  herself  as  well,  and  she 
remarked  upon  the  difference  between  a  leisurely 
ride  in  comfort,  as  against  the  scarifying  speeders 
who  infested  the  southern  drive.  Such  had  been 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    225 

the  only  other  experience  of  her  lifetime.  But, 
by  way  of  comparison,  the  smooth,  almost  jarless 
driving  of  Jacques,  with  Santzi  by  his  side,  was 
to  her  the  acme  of  delight. 

And  so  the  journey  continued  all  the  way  out 
to  Patchogue,  and  the  little  home,  where  the 
sleek  and  silent  car  came  to  a  final  stop.  Into 
the  spick  and  span  cottage  all  four  entered  and 
it  wasn't  long  before  the  father  was  put  to  bed, 
and  Winifred,  in  gingham  apron,  engaged  her- 
self in  preparing  a  dainty  luncheon  from  her 
jams  and  preserves  together  with  hot  biscuit  and 
coffee.  A  small  jar  of  cream  and  big  dab  of  but- 
ter were  borrowed  in  neighborly  fashion  over  the 
back  fence,  also  a  chunk  of  cold  ham,  repre- 
senting good  measure  in  the  heart  of  the  neigh- 
bor. Thus  for  two  hours  the  little  home  gave  a 
good  account  of  itself  and  when  saying  good-bye 
Villard  looked  wistfully  into  the  eyes  of  sweet 
Winifred  and  asked  a  serious  question. 

"Do  you  know  how  much  I  love  you,  dear?" 

"With  all  your  heart — I  know,"  she  answered. 

"When  shall  I  come  again?"  he  pleaded,  with 
eyes  that  smiled  into  her  own. 

"As  often  as  you  feel  disposed.     I  shall  have 


226  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

no  time  to  attend  the  little  business  place  we 
own.  But  I  shall  keep  it  open  with  help  from 
others.  I  fear  the  worst  about  father." 

And  when  it  was  time  to  go  back  home  Villard 
made  no  further  overture  of  his  love  than  to  hold 
her  hand  and  to  squeeze  it  tightly.  He  longed 
to  kiss  her  but  he  knew  her  code — only  a  husband 
could  claim  that  right. 

Two  days  later,  Alexander  Barbour  passed 
away,  and  Winifred  put  on  mourning.  During 
her  grief  the  whole  town  became  interested  in 
her  affairs,  and  with  Julie  Hayes  at  the  busi- 
ness helm,  she  took  her  time,  and  thought  out 
her  future.  Seemingly  everybody  called  at  her 
home;  even  George  Carver  of  Eiverhead  made 
a  special  trip  to  pay  his  respects.  There  had 
been  an  episode  in  her  life  in  which  he  had 
figured  heroically,  and  she  had  made  a  vast  im- 
pression upon  his  youthful  mind.  With  the  best 
of  intentions,  and  with  due  consideration  of  her 
bereavement,  he  did  not  come  often,  nor  did  Vil- 
lard, owing  to  the  small  talk  that  might  arise 
from  too  frequent  calls.  For  the  sake  of  com- 
panionship she  gained  consent  of  Julie  Hayes' 
parents  by  which  the  young  girl  became  her  com- 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    227 

panion  at  home,  as  well  as  her  clerk  at  the  booth 
on  the  Parkway. 

With  regard  to  Villard's  calls,  it  had  been 
hinted  by  Winifred  that  the  Sabbath  was  a  day 
when  visits  would  be  most  welcome  and  that 
going  to  church  together  would  be  better  for  her, 
and  add  to  his  prestige — now  growing  in  the 
town.  He  had  become  fond  of  the  place  and  made 
many  acquaintances.  Land  deals  were  active 
through  his  ability  to  furnish  money  for  building 
purposes.  Every  citizen  was  charmed  by  his 
modest  simplicity  and  if  ever  a  man  owned  a 
townful  of  ardent  boosters  it  was  Drury  Villard. 

On  one  particular  Sunday  George  Carver  left 
the  Barbour  cottage  just  as  Villard  drove  up, 
and  Winifred  and  Julie  had  gone  out  to  the  gate 
as  he  took*  his  leave.  Then,  for  the  first  time 
Winifred  noted  a  shadow  creeping  over  the  face 
of  Villard,  though  he  smiled  affably,  and  shook 
hands  with  the  younger  man. 

"You  are  just  in  time  for  a  good  dinner,"  said 
Carver.  "Sorry  I  have  to  go,  but  it  is  necessary. 
My  loss  is  your  gain,"  said  the  young  man  gaily, 
but  there  were  times  when  he  wondered  if  her 
sweet  consideration  could  be  turned  into  love. 


228  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

When  Carver  had  gone  both  Winifred  and 
Julie  each  grasped  the  arm  of  the  solemn  Villard, 
and  in  less  than  a  minute  his  face  was  all  smiles. 

"Julie,  we  will  have  to  be  careful  about  allow- 
ing our  callers  to  cross  each  other's  paths," 
teased  Winifred.  "Did  you  notice  how  quickly 
our  Mr.  Carver  mounted  his  wheel  when  our  Mr. 
Drury  Villard  drove  up?  Shall  we  invite  them 
to  a  duel?"  laughed  Winifred,  seizing  one  of  his 
big  hands.  "Now  sir,  you  shall  be  fed  by  both  of 
us  until  you  will  never  want  to  eat  again — but, 
do  we  get  a  ride  after  dinner,  Sir  Knight?" 

"You  do — all  three  of  us  on  one  seat,  so  I  can 
hug  two  charming  girls  at  one  time.  Where  shall 
we  go?"  inquired  Villard,  who  had  no  choice  of 
routes. 

"I — I'm  afraid  to  suggest,"  faltered  Winifred, 
guiltily. 

"Of  course  I'm  no  mind  reader,  dear  girl " 

"I  hardly  know  so  well  about  that.  It  seems 
to  me  that  you  really  do  know  my  mind?" 
laughed  Winifred. 

"For  example?" 

"Don't  you  remember?  Over  at  Dreamy  Hol- 
low— how  you  anticipated  everything  that  would 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    229 

add  to  my  comfort  and  ease  of  mind?  If  I  was 
the  least  bit  thirsty  you  rang  a  bell  and  in  came 
the  water  without  a  hint  from  me.  All  I  had 
to  do  was  to  think  of  something  I'd  like  for  din- 
ner, and  there  it  was,  when  it  came  time  to  be 
served.  I  am  somewhat  like  the  slaves  of  olden 
days  who  thought  as  did  their  master,"  teased  the 
girl.  "Now  I'm  going  to  prove  all  I've  said.  I'll 
write  my  wishes  down  as  to  where  we  shall  go, 
and  I'll  fold  it  and  hand  it  to  you." 

Over  to  her  desk  ran  Winifred,  where  she 
rapidly  set  down  her  choice,  then  gave  it  into  the 
keeping  of  Julie. 

"Now  sir — please  state  your  own  choice  of  a 
drive,"  said  the  girl,  gaily. 

"I've  always  wanted  to  visit  Parkins'  hut," 
said  he,  yawning  after  the  fashion  of  one  who 
desires  to  hide  his  curiosity  concerning  a  certain 
particular  thing. 

Simultaneously  the  two  girls  broke  out  in 
laughter,  as  Julie  passed  over  Winifred's 
scribbled  line— "The  Parkins  Castle  on  the  Outer 
Drive."  She  had  once  seen  the  hut  and  with 
girlish  curiosity  wanted  to  see  it  again. 

"Now  then — see   how  you  control   my  very 


230  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

thoughts!"  laughed  Winifred  running  over  to 
him  and  patting  his  cheek.  "Now  'sposing  you 
were  a  wicked  king,  just  imagine  what  a  living 
death  I  would  lead !"  she  ended,  her  voice  deeply 
sepulchral  as  her  girlish  voice  could  command. 

And  so  the  plan  took  immediate  effect  by  way 
of  starting  out.  As  they  quickly  passed  through 
the  deserted  business  quarter,  the  question  arose 
as  to  which  turn  to  take  for  the  outer  drive,  but 
an  inquiry  brought  them  the  right  information. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  terrible  if  we'd  find  him 
there,"  suggested  Winifred  snuggling  more  close- 
ly to  Villard  and  clutching  his  arm. 

"Nothing  like  that  can  happen.  He  is  occu- 
pied elsewhere,"  replied  Villard,  his  teeth  set 
and  his  voice  cold. 

After  that  the  ride  continued  in  silence  until 
the  outer  drive  came  within  view.  Then  with 
delight  the  two  girls  grew  interested  in  the 
great  billows  that  came  rolling  in  from  the  ocean, 
almost  forgetting  the  objective  hut  that  had  held 
their  thought.  But  it  came  to  view  most  quickly 
thereafter.  Unpainted  and  weather  beaten,  it 
stood  alone  without  tree  or  shrub  to  lend  it  hos- 
pitable appearance.  Just  a  shack — nothing  else 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    231 

— a  bedroom,  plainly  furnished,  and  in  order, 
also  a  kitchenette,  and  a  bath  tub  with  shower. 
Several  empty  barrels  outside  told  of  the  fresh 
water  supply,  hauled  in,  no  doubt,  from  nearby 
wells,  inside  the  bay  district.  Evidently  the 
owner  liked  music,  as  a  banjo-guitar  stood  in  one 
corner  of  the  room.  Also  there  had  been  a  dog 
about  the  premises,  accounted  for  by  a  muzzle 
and  chain,  and  a  collar  to  which  was  attached  a 
state  license.  In  a  crude  desk  there  were  various 
papers  and  letters,  some  with  envelopes  ad- 
dressed by  feminine  hands.  All  these  Villard 
made  into  a  bundle,  and  wrapped  them  with  an 
old  newspaper. 

"I'll  turn  them  over  to  Updyke,"  said  he  to 
Winifred,  as  she  looked  on.  "They  might  be 
valuable — some  time,"  he  mumbled  as  if  to  him- 
self. Then  suddenly  he  almost  shouted — "Let  us 
get  away  from  this  infamous  den !"  as  he  opened 
the  door  for  the  two  girls  to  pass  out.  Then  he 
slammed  it  behind  him  and  walked  to  the  car 
without  looking  back. 

A  month  went  by  before  anything  of  impor- 
tance broke  in  upon  the  even  tenor  of  Villard's 
daily  life.  The  Parkins  matter  had  waned  into 


232  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

a  memory  and  Updyke  held  his  peace  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  the  man.  Then,  suddenly,  as  a 
bolt  from  the  sky,  the  engagement  of  Winifred 
Barbour  of  Patchogue  and  George  Carver  of 
Riverhead  was  announced  in  the  local  papers  of 
that  thriving  little  city.  From  the  moment  Vil- 
lard  learned  of  it  he  settled  back  into  the  life 
of  a  recluse.  He  had  lost  his  battle  in  the  dear- 
est cause  of  his  life.  He  became  old  and  worn 
over  night,  such  had  been  the  inexorable  reac- 
tion from  his  mighty  love  for  the  girl  of  his 
heart.  Only  Updyke  and  Sawyer  could  gain  ac- 
cess to  his  seclusion.  Gray  patches  of  hair  made 
quick  attack  upon  the  dark  brown,  and  no  longer 
caring  for  his  general  appearance,  gray  whis- 
kers and  a  stubby  mustache  were  allowed  to 
grow  at  random.  The  change  was  most  radical, 
but  not  without  distinction.  After  all  it  was 
Villard  who  wore  them. 

From  tlic  day  he  read  the  item  concerning  the 
engagement  Villard  refused  the  newspapers  and 
all  reading  matter.  Even  letters,  addressed  per- 
sonally to  him  at  Dreamy  Hollow,  were  allowed 
to  lay  unopened.  And  there  was  one  from  Wini- 
fred, in  which  she  had  bared  '  T  soul  in  explana- 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    233 

tion,  declaring  her  undying  allegiance,  as  might 
a  daughter  and  a  comforter — but  not  as  a  wife. 
The  envelope  remained  unbroken,  as  merely  one 
of  the  heap  that  grew  day  by  day.  Nothing  mat- 
tered— Villard's  world  stood  still. 

In  one  paragraph  Winifred  had  written  an  ex- 
planation of  her  motives,  and  she  prayed  for  an 
answer  from  the  depths  of  her  heart.  It  read — 

Dear  Friend : — These  things  I  would  have  you 
stop  and  consider,  not  lightly,  because  of  your 
love  for  me.  I  am  not  of  your  station  in  life 
— and  I  would  not  drag  you  down  to  mine.  Just 
imagine  the  harm  that  would  come  of  it — a 
blight  on  your  life,  that  you  could  never  live 
down.  Oh,  my  dearest  friend  on  earth,  how 
would  either  of  us  regard  the  other  once  we  were 
confronted  by  the  mirror  of  public  opinion?  So, 
with  eyes  open  wide  to  the  consequences  of  wed- 
lock with  you,  I  am  about  to  consecrate  my  life 
to  a  plain,  simple  man,  without  riches  or  deep 
learning — one  of  my  own  station  in  life,  who  will 
never  have  cause  to  rue  the  day  he  takes  me  to 
wed.  It  is  all  for  the  best,  dear  friend.  Just 
allow  your  big,  generous  heart  to  feel  that  my 
intentions  are  for  your  good,  and  also  my  own. 
There  have  been  precious  moments  in  our  lives 
which  I  shall  never  forget — nor  shall  I  deny, 
even  to  the  man  I  shall  marry — that  you  were 
the  first  to  inspire  my  heart  with  a  knowledge  of 
what  a  sacred  emotion  love  should  be. 


234  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

And  that  was  the  letter  in  full,  all  save  the  sig- 
nature— one  word — Winifred. 

Had  Villard  opened  it  upon  its  arrival,  his 
greatness  of  heart  would  have  asserted  itself 
forthwith.  But  gaining  first  information  from  a 
newspaper  clipping  was  quite  another  matter. 
It  rankled  in  his  bosom.  Big,  manly  fellow  that 
he  was,  ordinarily  he  would  have  stopped  to 
think  how  innocently  such  things  could  happen. 
Winifred's  letter  had  been  mailed  two  days  be- 
fore the  article  appeared,  but  it  had  been  delayed 
in  transit.  On  time,  it  would  have  given  Villard 
opportunity  to  support  his  own  cause,  but  fate 
plays  in  all  games,  either  of  heart  or  of  brain. 
To  a  girl  of  her  mould  wealth  had  no  standing 
when  measured  by  love. 

Time  flew  by  as  the  wedding  day  drew  near. 
But  there  came  no  wrord  from  Villard.  Henry 
Updyke  looked  in  on  Winifred's  little  home  one 
day  and  found  the  girl  crying.  Few  women  are 
they  who  may  heighten  their  beauty  through 
tears,  but  Winifred's  face  was  that  of  a  grieving 
Madonna.  She  ran  to  him  at  once,  as  a  child  to 
its  father  and  wound  her  arms  about  his  neck. 


WINIFRED  MEETS  UPDYKE    235 

And  there  she  remained  as  she  sobbed  out  her 
story. 

"But  you  love  this  young  man,  don't  you?" 
soothed  the  big  fellow  whose  face  looked  drawn 
and  old,  as  his  heart  went  out  to  the  girl. 

"I  don't  know,"  sobbed  Winifred. 

"Do  you  love  Drury  Villard?" 

"Oh,  fondly,  sir,  but  he  is  far  above  me!  I 
would  ruin  his  life — and  after  all  his  kindness  to 
ray  father  and  myself,  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it." 

"Well,  now,  little  woman,  just  sit  down  in  that 
big  rocking  chair  and  let  me  talk  to  you  like  an 
uncle  who  had  your  interest  at  heart.  Villard 
is  a  sick  man,  and  he  hadn't  opened  your  letter 
when  I  called  upon  him  two  weeks  ago.  There 
were  many  more  and  all  of  them  more  or  less 
important.  Yours  was  among  them,  and  to 
oblige  him  I  read  all  his  mail." 

"My  letter,  too !"  blushed  the  girl — "and  it  was 
sacred — I  meant  it  so." 

"Yes,  and  it  is  still  sacred,  but  now  he  knows 
its  contents — and  he  might  never  have  known 
had  I  not  done  a  little  secretarial  work  for  him 
that  day.  He  had  ordered  his  mail  to  be  thrown 
in  the  fire,  but  I  was  consulted,  arriving  as  I  did 


236  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

at  the  right  moment.  In  due  course  I  read  your 
letter,  and  I  sincerely  compliment  you  upon  your 
good  sense.  I  count  you  as  one  of  my  friends, 
for  I  know  you  have  nothing  against  me,  so  we 
may  be  quite  confidential,  I  hope." 

"Indeed  we  may^  sir,"  assented  Winifred  in  a 
very  weak  little  voice. 

"Mr.  Villard  trusts  me,  Mr.  Sawyer  trusts  me, 
and  hundreds  of  the  best-known  people  in  New 
York  trust  me.  Now  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  every  word  I  say  is  truth.  I  make  my  liv- 
ing by  telling  the  truth,  but  in  many  cases  it  does 
not  come  to  light.  Now  then,  listen  carefully 
— Mr.  Villard  is  one  of  God's  noblemen !" 

"Oh,  I  know  he  is,  Mr.  Updyke!"  assented 
Winifred. 

"He  loved  a  girl  named  Winifred  many  years 
ago " 

"Yes,  I  know  that — too.  She  warned  me  of 
the  accident,  but  in  my  eagerness  to  see  New 
York  I  said  little  about  it.  But  I  did  tell  Mr. 
Villard,  after  I  came  to  know  him." 

"He  hears  from  her,  from  time  to  time — or 
thinks  he  does — it's  all  the  same,"  said  Updyke. 
"She  warned  him  of  Parkins,  but  trustful  man 


WINIFRED   MEETS   UPDYKE  237 

that  he  was,  he  wouldn't  believe.  Now  he  knows 
the  truth — but  to  get  back  to  my  point,  I  want  to 
say,  in  justice  to  all  parties,  that  you  should  not 
marry  Villard.  Not  that  he  isn't  worthy — far 
from  that,  there  is  no  one  more  so — but  his  heart 
is  with  the  dead !  As  his  wife  you  would  become 
to  him  the  shrine  of  his  dead  love's  soul ! — and 
he  would  worship  you  as  such.  Would  you  be 
satisfied  with  just  that,  little  girl?"  queried  the 
big  fellow. 

Updyke  watched  the  varying  emotions  of  the 
girl  as  she  struggled  to  understand.  It  was  all 
so  deep  and  mysterious,  even  though  she  had  be- 
liefs of  her  own  like  the  one  he  had  explained. 

"Allow  me  to  answer  the  question  for  you," 
prompted  Updyke,  gazing  deep  into  her  eyes. 
"There  are  as  many  beliefs  on  the  subject  of  the 
hereafter  as  there  are  grief-stricken  people. 
Every  person  who  pretends  to  know  about  the 
life  to  come  is  to  that  extent  insane.  In  fact 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  complete  sanity.  The 
ninety  and  nine  are  divided  into  that  same  num- 
ber of  personal  and  deviating  beliefs,  and  the 
one-hundredth — has  no  belief  whatever." 

Winifred's  eyes  had  begun  to  open  wide,  as  if 


238  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to  testify  in  behalf  of  her  own  hereafter,  but 
I/pdyke  raised  his  hand  for  a  new  beginning. 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  tell  me — your 
own  belief — eh?  But  what  is  the  use?  It  is  but 
yours  after  all,  and  though  it  might  satisfy  you 
it  might  not  meet  my  views.  But  I  am  glad  you 
have  a  belief,  little  woman.  We  must  all  have 
something  to  lean  upon  or  what  would  be  the 
use  of  a  temporary  life,  and  nothing  to  hope  for 
in  the  future?  I  want  you  to  believe  that  which 
will  comfort  your  soul  and  keep  it  good.  And 
you  must  never  allow  any  one  to  shake  that  be- 
lief— 'for  therein  is  the  power  and  the  glory  for- 
ever— Amen' !" 

Updyke's  voice  betokened  a  depth  of  feeling 
that  Winifred  had  never  before  witnessed  in  his 
conservation.  He  had  joked  and  teased,  but  now 
he  talked  in  a  way  that  convinced  her  of  his 
superior  mental  equipment. 

"Your  words  comfort  me,  and  I  shall  always 
think  of  that  dear  good  man  at  Dreamy  Hollow 
with  reverence  for  his  constancy,"  she  sighed. 
"Were  it  fair  to  either  of  us  I  would  gladly  share 
his  love  with  the  other  Winifred,  but  something 
tells  me  that  my  youth  must  not  be  shadowed  by 


WINIFRED   MEETS    UPDYKE  239 

brooding  thoughts.  I  must  have  individuality 
of  my  own,"  faltered  Winifred,  her  eyes 
haunted  by  strange  lights  of  mingled  fear  and 
compassion. 

"Then  marry  the  young  man.  It  is  simply  in 
justice  to  you  and  George  Carver  that  I  say  it. 
I  have  never  known  a  more  upright  man  in  my 
life.  He  has  the  heart  of  a  lion — you  know  that 
yourself,  for  you  saw  him  in  action  as  he  carried 
out  my  instructions  to  the  letter.  And " 

"Your  instructions! — I  don't  understand,  Mr. 
Updyke.  Please  explain,"  demanded  the  aston- 
ished girl. 

"It  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue,  but  there  is  no 
harm  done.  You  are  soon  to  be  one  of  our 
family,  so  perhaps  I'd  better  tell  you  something 
about  George,"  said  he,  laughingly.  "He  belongs 
to  the  greatest  law  and  order  association  in 
America,  perhaps  the  world.  It  spreads  to  wher- 
ever our  flag  flies  and  is  truly  the  backbone  of 
the  nation.  As  members  of  the  association  each 
man  is  carefully  chosen  and  sworn  in,  but  not 
as  an  officer  of  the  law,  but  rather  as  an  up- 
holder of  our  government.  Most  of  them  are 
given  official  standing  by  being  sworn  in  as 


240  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

deputy  sheriffs,  clerks  of  courts,  and  so  on. 
George  is  a  deputy  sheriff,  and  that  is  why  he 
came  to  your  rescue.  As  soon  as  you  were  kid- 
napped my  office  sent  out  an  alarm  that  spread 
all  over  Long  Island.  It  wasn't  possible  for 
Parkins  to  escape  in  my  district,"  concluded  the 
big  fellow  as  he  arose  to  go. 

"Then  you  are  a — a " 

"Sleuth? — No,  never! — I  just  keep  bad  eggs 
from  getting  into  the  cake,"  laughed  Updyke — 
and  then  very  soberly,  he  reached  out  his  huge 
hand  to  the  little  girl  in  front  of  him,  and  she 
grasped  it  eagerly.  She  tried  to  squeeze  it,  but 
it  was  too  big  and  too  gnarled — it  couldn't  be 
squeezed — ah,  but  how  it  might  squeeze  was 
Winifred's  thought,  as  she  followed  him  out  to 
the  gate. 

"Would  you  mind  if  I  asked  one  more  ques- 
tion?" queried  Winifred,  her  cheeks  turning  red 
from  the  wave  of  diffidence  that  crept  into  her 
heart. 

"Bless  you,  no — go  on,"  said  Updyke,  in- 
vitingly. 

"I  am  haunted  with  fear — where  is  this  man 
Parkins?" 


WINIFRED   MEETS   UPDYKE  241 

"You  will  never  hear  of  him  again;  rest  your 
mind  on  that  score.  He  is  alive — somewhere. 
Nobody  knows  but  me,"  he  laughed,  as  he 
jumped  in  his  car. 

And  then  she  stood  at  the  gate  and  watched 
with  awe  the  big  man's  machine  as  it  faded  in 
the  distance,  but  when  it  turned  west  he  raised 
his  hand,  and  she  answered  by  waving  her  own. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GEOEGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE 

THE  day  that  Winifred  Barbour  was  married 
to  George  Carver  was  as  beautiful  as  a  day 
might  be.  The  ceremony  was  performed  in  her 
own  little  home  and  was  followed  by  a  reception 
that  lasted  on  toward  the  evening.  Every  gay 
gown  in  Patchogue  had  its  chance  for  an  airing 
on  that  gala  day,  but  when  evening  shadows  be- 
gan to  fall,  the  church  bell  rang,  and  every  man 
and  woman,  to  say  nothing  of  the  children,  be- 
took themselves  to  the  church.  A  monster  wed- 
ding supper,  the  inspiration  of  the  townspeople 
acting  in  one  accord,  had  been  spread,  and  none 
would  be  denied  admission. 

It  was  Winifred's  hour  of  triumph  over  her 
young  lord  and  master,  who,  while  subject  to 
congratulations,  came  in  for  small  glory.  The 
fact  that  he  was  soon  to  depart  with  his  bride 
for  their  new  home  in  Riverhead  failed  to  de- 
velop any  medals  for  him. 

242 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE   243 

"Why  don't  you  quit  that  dead  county  seat 
town  and  stay  here  among  us  'ristocrats,"  de- 
manded Old  Man  Carmichel,  gruffly,  by  way  of 
gleaming  daggers— then  bursting  out  in  wild 
guffaws,  "Jes'ta  take  the  feller  off'n  his  feet." 

But  Carver  had  seen  many  such  in  his  bright 
young  life,  and  he  likened  them  to  the  usual 
village  "Jester,"  who  started  that  way  and  kept 
it  going  to  the  end  of  his  days.  Nevertheless,  it 
was  Carver's  night  to  be  affable  so  he  grinned 
quite  good  naturedly  as  he  awaited  the  arrival 
of  Henry  Updyke  and  his  big  touring  car.  It 
was  the  one  privilege  the  big  fellow  had  de- 
manded, since  he  could  not  attend  the  wedding 
— to  see  the  bride  safely  to  the  door  of  her  new 
home.  And  he  had  his  reason  for  that,  aside 
from  its  pleasure,  for  the  event  had  been  at- 
tended by  much  advance  publicity,  far  greater 
than  the  prominence  of  the  happy  girl  would 
ordinarily  entitle  her. 

The  New  York  papers  gave  mention  of  the 
forthcoming  wedding  in  their  last  Sunday  edi- 
tions, and  on  the  following  Sabbath  the  "write 
ups"  would  be  much  extended,  with  a  picture 
of  the  bride  in  the  magazine  sections. 


244  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Mary  Johnson,  Updyke's  assistant,  had  seen  to 
all  that  by  personally  making  the  rounds  of 
Newspaper  Kow.  A  camera  man,  as  if  dropped 
from  the  clouds,  seemed  somewhat  officious  to 
the  townspeople  of  Patchogue,  when  he  posed 
the  young  couple  on  the  steps  of  the  church. 
Just  how  a  young  fellow  with  tripod  and  camera 
could  halt  with  his  hand  a  great  host  of  people, 
and  sweep  them  this  way  and  that  until  they 
posed  artistically  about  the  bride  and  groom, 
was  something  to  ponder  on.  In  the  doing  of 
this  there  was  some  rivalry  by  way  of  holding 
one's  own  in  "the  limelight,"  but  the  camera 
was  newfangled,  and  it  revolved  either  way  suf- 
ficiently to  take  in  the  most  prominent  of  those 
in  the  wake  of  the  bride-  and  much  to  the  mysti- 
fication of  more  than  one  person.  It  was  Old 
Man  Carmichel's  turn  to  again  become  facetious. 

"I'll  be  switched  if  I  c'n  see  how  they  take 
pitchers  with  a  contraption  that  won't  stay  put," 
said  he,  his  eyes  showing  his  mystification.  "It 
must  be  broke,  or  somethin'." 

"It's  a  inovin'  pitcher  kodak — ain't  you  ever 
seen  'um  before?"  queried  the  man  beside  him. 

"Yeh — I've  seen  'um  twicet  as  big,"  said  Car- 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE    245 

michel  moving  within  range  of  the  strange 
machine. 

After  depositing  the  Carvers  at  their  new 
home  Updyke  refused  the  invitation  to  alight, 
but  Winifred,  the  bride,  would  not  have  it  so,  and 
she  caught  up  one  of  his  big  hands  and  called  to 
her  husband  to  help  her. 

"Just  think,  after  all  of  the  trouble  I  have 
caused  you,  now  you  refuse  to  take  a  little  bit 
more,  to  see  how  George  has  busied  himself  of 
late,"  she  pouted,  playfully.  "You've  just  got 
to  or  I'll  jump  up  and  kiss  you  before  everybody 
passing  by." 

"Well,  I  don't  want  Mary's  nose  to  get  out 
of  joint,"  said  the  big  fellow,  clambering  down 
to  the  pavement. 

"Mary! — Mary  who?"  she  demanded,  as  with 
her  husband  on  one  side  and  herself  on  the  other, 
they  dragged  him  into  the  new  cottage.  There, 
with  one  poke  of  Carver's  forefinger  he  touched 
a  master  button  which  set  every  light  globe  go- 
ing from  cellar  to  roof. 

In  the  excitement  of  entering  her  new  home 
for  the  first  time,  Winifred  forgot  the  word 
"Mary"  for  quite  a  long  time.  The  little  place 


246  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

was  yet  to  be  furnished,  and  that  was  "Wini- 
fred's job,"  according  to  Carver,  and  meanwhile 
they  would  "put  up"  at  "The  White  House," 
only  a  few  blocks  away.  George's  plans  had 
been  splendid,  far  better  than  she  could  have 
figured  out  for  herself. 

"What  shall  we  call  it?"  she  cried,  enthusi- 
astically. "Think  up  a  good  name  for  our  new 
home,  Mr.  Updyke." 

"The  Gambler's  Paradise,"  he  replied  soberly. 

"You  horrid  thing — how  could  you  think  of 
such  a  name !"  scolded  Winifred. 

"Well — didn't  George  take  a  big  gamble  when 
he  waylaid  Parkins?  He  might  have  been  shot, 
you  know." 

"Oh,  my  darling  George,  come  here  and  let  me 
kiss  you!"  she  demanded.  "Wasn't  he  brave, 
Mr.  Updyke?" 

"All  gamblers  are  brave  as  long  as " 

"Now  you  stop  teasing  me,  sir — make  him  stop 
George !"  she  urged,  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 
"Just  give  me  a  name  for  our  home — and  be 
quick  about  it." 

"Parkins'  Waterloo,"  replied  Updyke,  his  eyes 
filled  with  the  Old  Nick. 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE   247 

"Now  George,  you  come  forward  and  make 
this  man  behave/'  she  demanded — "or  shall  I 
pull  his  hair?" 

Then  remembering  something  she  had  for- 
gotten Winifred  exclaimed — 

"Tell  me  about  Mary — who  is  she?" 

"My  right  hand  man,"  replied  Updyke  soberly. 

"A  man  named  Mary? — Oh!" 

"Well  she  is  more  than  a  man — she's  a  woman 
with  a  level  head,  who  runs  my  business  and 
knows  more  about  it  than  I  do,"  replied  Updyke 
without  further  indication  of  his  attitude  toward 
her. 

"Then  you'd  better  marry  her  at  once  or  some 
one  will  come  along  and  steal  her,  too!"  warned 
the  bride. 

"If  they  do  they'll  have  to  take  a  chance  they 
might  regret.  Mary  is  an  officer  of  the  law  and 
am^jly  able  to  protect  herself,"  said  the  big 
fellow,  knowingly. 

"George  Carver — look  at  this  man !  I  declare, 
with  all  my  feminine  intuitions,  that  he  is  in 
love!" 

Laughter,  always  a  tonic,  brought  the  red  to 


248  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Updyke's  face  when  he  saw  that  he  had  stumbled 
into  the  wrong  kind  of  joking. 

"He  doesn't  deny  it,  George.  See  that  heigh- 
tened color  in  his  cheeks?"  teased  Winifred,  her 
eyes  sparkling. 

"Well — I  own  up — just  between  the  three  of 
us,  and  to  go  no  further,"  Updyke  replied.  "I 
haven't  asked  her  yet." 

"Then  how  do  you  know  she  will  have  you?" 
demanded  Winifred,  biting  her  lower  lip  in  order 
to  look  solemn. 

"The  Updyke  System  will  reach  out  and  gather 
her  in  one  of  these  days,  when  I  get  my  courage 
to  the  boiling  point,"  replied  the  big  fellow, 
chuckling. 

"Then  you  must  start  practicing  at  once," 
commanded  Mrs.  Carver,  with  the  air  of  a  matron 
of  long  time  experience.  "I  want  to  go  along 
when  she  shops  for  her  trousseau.  I've  yet  to  see 
your  little  old  New  York,"  said  she,  dreamily,  as 
memories  came  back  to  her  mind. 

"Come — jump  in  and  I'll  drive  you  over  to 
'The  White  House,'  "  ordered  Updyke,  noting  her 
thoughtful  attitude.  "It's  getting  late  for  young 
married  couples  to  be  caught  on  the  streets. 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE    249 

There  is  a  curfew  law  in  Riverhead  for  brides 
and  grooms.  Seven  thirty,  and  then  the  law 
swoops  down !" 

And  when  the  happy  pair  were  landed  in  front 
of  the  white  painted  hotel  the  big  fellow  whis- 
pered hoarsely — 

"I'm  going  to  bring  Mary  out  to  see  you  when 
you  get  settled.  We'll  come  some  Saturday,  and 
you  act  as  chaperon  for  a  night.  Next  day  we 
will  run  over  to  New  York  for  a  whole  week 
while  you  help  do  her  shopping.  That's  a  go 
— eh — George?" 

"Indeed  it  is,"  laughed  Winifred,  assuming 
command  of  the  new  ship  of  state.  "But 
wouldn't  it  be  wise  to  wait  and  see  if  she  will 
have  you?" 

"By  George,  you're  right;  I  hadn't  thought  of 
that.  I'll  ring  her  up  the  moment  I  get  to  my 
hotel,"  replied  Updyke. 

"Why  not  use  long  distance?"  suggested  Wini- 
fred. "Then  George  can  stand  near  and  coach 
you.  I  assure  you  he  is  good  at  it." 

"Not  much!"  exploded  Updyke,  as  he  set  the 
starter  going.  "When  I  tell  Mary,  there  will  be 
no  freshly  married  people  around." 


250  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

As  the  long  nosed  roadster  threaded  its  way 
along  Main  Street  the  Carvers  stood  watching 
until  its  red  tail  lights  faded  from  view.  Thus 
the  happiest  day  of  their  lives  had  merged  into 
night. 

On  reaching  the  second  floor  of  The  White 
House,  the  bride  enquired  about  the  hour. 

"Just  seven  twenty-eight,"  replied  Carver, 
consulting  his  watch. 

"Then  'curfew  shall  not  ring  to-night,'  as  we 
have  two  minutes  to  spare,"  laughed  the  bride, 
closing  the  door  softly  behind  them. 

On  reaching  New  York  Updyke  immediately 
rang  up  the  home  where  Mary  Johnson  lived 
and  "switchboard"  promptly  responded. 

"Updyke  calling,"  said  he,  gruffly. 

"Miss  Johnson  is  waiting  to  hear  from  you 
— something  important  I  believe,"  said  the  girl, 
who  always  watched  out  for  his  interests. 

"Put  her  on,  Miss  Daisy,"  said  Updyke,  "and 
don't  listen  in,"  he  warned,  as  one  who  knew 
about  her  girl-like  curiosity.  "This  you,  Miss 
Johnson — how's  everything?" 

"Bad  news  from  South  Bay,"  said  she,  mean- 
ing Dreamy  Hollow.  "News  from  Patchogue 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE   251 

caused  a  severe  spell  of  anesthesia.  Doctor  Ben- 
ton  is  staying  there  over  night — also  Mr. 
Sawyer." 

"Does  he  recognize  them?" 

"They  do  not  know,  but  think  it  doubtful.  At 
one  time  he  said — 'tell  Parkins' — and  at  another, 
some  hours  later,  he  mumbled  incoherently  about 
'the  church'  being  'too  crowded.'  'I've  been 
puzzled  over  the  words  'tell  Parkins' — what  do 
you  make  of  that?"  queried  the  secretary. 

"Nothing  important,"  replied  Updyke — "just 
vagaries  of  the  mind.  He'll  get  over  it  in  a  day 
or  two.  Perhaps  his  words  'the  church'  signi- 
fied a  hazy  recollection  of  the  wedding  held  there 
to-day.  The  camera  man  shot  a  lot  of  pictures. 
Better  hold  on  to  some  of  the  proofs  for  the 
gallery,"  laughed  Updyke. 

"The  Updyke  gallery? — never!  You  may  have 
one  for  your  private  office,"  said  the  secretary, 
after  a  pause. 

"Old  stingy — always  keeping  down  expenses, 
eh?  Proofs  only  cost  a  dollar  apiece — good  ones, 
I  mean.  Spoils,  only  a  quarter.  I  presume  I'll 
get  one  of  the  spoils,"  laughed  the  big  fellow. 

"If  you  talk  that  way,  I'll  keep  all  of  them," 


252  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

bantered  Mary  Johnson.  "Where  are  they 
now?" 

"What— the  pictures?" 

"No — the  happy  couple?" 

"Asleep — I  guess,"  replied  Updyke,  blandly. 

"You  are  quite  impossible,  after  your  long 
ride  all  by  yourself.  I  believe  you  are  jealous  of 
George." 

"No,  you  are  wrong,  Mary.  It's  not  him,  much 
as  I  admire  his  wife." 

"Who  else  could  it  be?"  giggled  Mary. 

"Now  you  are  asking  questions!  What  is  the 
name  of  the  photographer  you  sent  out  to 
Patchogue?" 

"Oh,  a  queer  sort  of  name ! — Pelletier,  or  some- 
thing. He  does  all  our  work,  and  for  most  of  the 
newspapers.  I  had  him  go  out  personally,  in- 
stead of  sending  some  horrid  assistant." 

"Well,  he  is  the  man  who  excites  my  jealousy," 
said  Updyke,  sharply. 

"Impossible!  I  didn't  know  you  were  ac- 
quainted," replied  Mary  Johnson,  in  a  surprised 
tone. 

"Nevertheless  it's  him,"  replied  the  big  fellow, 
in  a  positive  tone  of  voice. 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE   253 

"What  reason  have  you  to  be  jealous  of  that 
little  simp?''  laughed  the  secretary. 

"Well,  he  kept  saying  she  wants  this,  and  she 
wants  that,  and  she  wants  one  taken  on  the  steps 
of  the  church,  and  one  as  they  get  into  the  auto- 
mobile, and  so  on,"  replied  Updyke. 

"Why  did  that  disturb  you?" 

"I  found  out  who  the  She  was  that  he  talked 
of  so  glibly." 

"Who  was  she?"  persisted  Mary  Johnson. 

"Why — can't  you  guess,  after  all  the  hints  I've 
made?" 

"No,  I'm  still  in  the  dark." 

"He  meant  you,  of  course,  and  he  seemed  so 
familiar.  Knew  precisely  what  you  wanted,  and 
aired  himself  importantly,"  growled  the  big 
fellow. 

"But  what  had  that  to  do  with  you,  I  wonder? 
You  left  the  matter  in  my  hands." 

"Quite  so,  my  dear,  and  that's  what  makes  me 
jealous.  The  fellow  talked  so  much  about  you  I 
feared  there  must  be  a  strong  attachment, 
or " 

"Now  that  will  be  qaite  enough !"  said  Mary 


254  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Johnson,   as  if   offended.      "I   think   it's   time 

"No,  Mary  don't  do  that.  I'm  in  real  deadly 
earnest  about — you  know  what  I  mean — now 
don't  you?"  appealed  the  big  fellow. 

"It  begins  to  dawn  on  me.  After  this  long 
conversation  I  feel  that  I  have  been  unusually 
dense.  Your  moonlight  ride  all  by  yourself  must 
have  gone  to  your  head,"  giggled  the  secretary. 

"Nevertheless  I  mean  every  word  I  have  said, 
Mary.  I  want  you — I  must  have  you,  Mary," 
said  Updyke,  a  note  of  strong  appeal  in  his  voice. 
"I've  known  it  a  long  time  but  I  could  not  make 
myself  believe  that  I  had  a  chance.  You  are  so 
young  and  pretty,  and  I  am  so  old  and  ugly, 
and " 

"Why  you  are  not  old  at  forty-one !"  exclaimed 
Mary  Johnson,  forgetting  that  she  was  listening 
to  an  avowal.  "And  as  for  being  ugly,  I'd  say 
that  your  rugged  face  denotes  character,  which 
is  far  more  worthwhile  than  being  good  looking. 
But  why  do  you  tell  me  all  this  over  the  tele- 
phone? Weren't  you  brave  enough  to  say  it  to 
my  face?" 

"No,   coward   that   I   am — I   just  couldn't," 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE    255 

sighed  Updyke  so  loudly  that  Mary  Johnson 
heard  it  over  the  wire. 

Then  came  a  pause,  a  very  long  one,  each 
expecting  the  next  word  to  come  from  the  other. 
Finally,  the  softly  modulated  voice  of  Mary 
Johnson  came  into  the  Updyke  ear. 

"Why  not  call  with  your  car  to-morrow  eve- 
ning, then  we  can  talk  more  freely,"  she  sug- 
gested. "Am  I  never  to  ride  in  that  big 
machine?" 

"I  always  knew  you  were  the  brams  of  the 
business,  Mary.  It's  no  wonder  that " 

"Don't  say  it  over  the  wire,"  warned  Mary. 
"I'd  rather  hear  it  more  directly." 

"Then  be  ready  at  seven,  my " 

"Never  mind — careful  what  you  say — some 
one  listening  in,"  said  she  as  both  heard  the 
guilty  click  of  the  switchboard.  "Au  revoir — 
I'll  be  ready  at  seven,  but  I  will  not  go  to  the 
office  to-morrow." 

"No — and  when  Miss  Carew  returns,  you  will 
come  and  go  as  you  please,"  said  he,  as  she 
answered  "Good  night." 

Then  the  big  fellow  hung  up  the  receiver. 

With  mind  filled  with  happy  thoughts,  Henry 


256  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

Updyke,  fatigued  by  eighteen  hours  of  constant 
activity,  turned  doggedly  back  to  the  telephone 
and  asked  connection  with  Dreamy  Hollow,  Vil- 
lard's  strange  condition  gave  him  a  queer  feel- 
ing of  unrest.  The  big  fellow  felt  that  he  had 
experienced  more  kinds  of  ups  and  downs  dur- 
ing the  past  few  months  than  for  any  period  of 
his  life.  With  joy  on  one  lobe  of  his  brain  and 
dread  on  the  other,  he  found  himself  halting  be- 
tween going  ahead  or  going  to  bed.  But  the 
long  tingle  of  the  phone  bell  brought  him  back  to 
attention,  as  Mrs.  Bond's  voice  came  over  the 
wire. 

"How's  Mr.  Villard?"  he  inquired. 

"About  the  same,  sir.  His  mind  is  just  as  it 
has  been  since " 

"Yes,  I  am  fearful  of  the  consequences.  Any 
change  in  his  actions?" 

"About  the  same.  He  lives  with  the  stars, 
and  has  no  word  for  any  of  us — just  oblivious  to 
everything  about  him.  Two  specialists  from  the 
city  were  here  to-day  with  Dr.  Benton.  Some- 
thing about  lesions  that  interfere  with  the 
brain/'  answered  Mrs.  Bond. 

"Any  talk  of  an  operation?" 


GEORGE  CARVER'S  BRIDE   257 

"I  believe  so,  but  the  doctors  are  not  agreed. 
Doctor  Benton  declares  that  no  operation  will 
take  place  with  his  consent.  If  outvoted,  he 
says  that  he  will  turn  the  case  over  and  quit. 
That  would  be  terrible,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Yes — more  than  that,  it  would  be  sinful.  I'll 
give  him  a  ring  on  the  phone  to-morrow.  Lesions 
practically  mean  incipient  paresis,  and  some- 
times lobes  form  that  are  even  more  dangerous. 
Without  criticising  the  life  he  leads,  which  is 
sedentary,  Mr.  Villard  could  have  saved  himself 
from  the  dreadful  state  he  is  in.  An  active, 
out-of-door  life  for  a  man  of  his  build  was  posi- 
tively necessary.  And  he  should  never  have 
given  up  his  daily  habit  of  attending  to  business. 
It  is  the  soft  life  that  kills,"  concluded  Updyke 
vehemently. 

"I  know  you  are  right.  Fat  people  like  me 
have  to  keep  going  and  continually  diet,  or  they 
fall  suddenly  never  to  rise  again,"  replied  the 
housekeeper. 

"How  about  his  mail?    More  of  it  coming  in?" 

"Yes,  great  heaps  of  letters.  You  never  saw 
the  like." 

"I'll  have  them  delivered  to  his  town  office, 


258  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

hereafter,"  said  Updyke.  "I  can't  spare  the  time 
to  run  down  there  to  read  them.  I'm  too  busy 
just  now." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Updyke,  good  night,  sir," 
said  Mrs.  Bond,  and  with  that  off  his  mind  the 
big  fellow  turned  in  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

PARKINS   RUNS  AMUCK 

FORTUNATELY  Henry  Updyke  was  no  slave  to 
his  nerves.  He  could  fall  into  slumber  as  his 
head  touched  the  pillow,  and  six  hours  later  roll 
out  for  the  day.  Just  approaching  the  middle- 
age  period,  sleep  meant  nothing  to  a  man  of  his 
bulk.  So  on  this  night  of  all  nights  the  big 
fellow  bolstered  himself  and  concentrated  his 
thoughts  on  the  girl  of  his  heart.  He  was  glad 
that  she  had  a  mind  of  her  own,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  could  take  advice — yet  needing  little. 
Many  times  he  had  told  her  to  attend  certain 
matters,  to  find  that  she  had  anticipated  his 
wishes.  Another  thing,  most  pleasant  to  reflect 
upon,  was  that  no  episode  of  the  Parkins  variety 
had  entered  her  life,  and  "By  the  Great  Horn 
Spoon" — which  was  his  most  violent  expletive — 
"there  never  would  be !" 

The  thought  of  Parkins  had  a  tingling  effect 
upon  Updyke,  as  he  brought  to  mind  a  certain 

259 


260  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

far-away  monastery,  hid  away  amid  the  timber- 
lands,  one  hundred  miles  northwest  of  Quebec. 
There  the  padrone  system  still  flourished  under 
the  ban  of  a  French-Canadian  lumber  company, 
and  Parkins  had  become  one  of  the  lumber  jack 
gang.  Three  years  was  his  "sign  up,"  after  a 
stormy  session  with  the  big  boss  to  whom  he 
had  been  consigned  by  a  Montreal  employment 
bureau.  To  attempt  an  escape  was  to  die  by 
starvation,  or  wild  beasts,  or  woodticks,  it  mat- 
tered not  which.  But  the  Parkins  brain  was  not 
so  far  scrambled  that  he  could  not  work  himself 
into  the  good  offices  of  the  boss  of  the  gang.  He 
first  helped  the  paymaster,  and  kept  up  the 
records.  Then  the  paymaster  took  sick  and  Par- 
kins became  head  of  the  accounting,  for  which  a 
rude  shack  answered  the  needs  of  protection — at 
the  same  time,  a  roof  for  his  head. 

All  these  details  of  the  Parkins'  entourage 
came  through  on  reports  from  Updyke's  Quebec 
agents.  Invariably,  on  answering,  the  New  York 
office  warned  against  too  much  freedom  of  ac- 
tion, for  Parkins  was  resourceful,  and  might  ef- 
fect an  escape.  All  this  was  poopoohed  by  the 
big  boss  at  the  lumber-jack  camp.  Just  to  show 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      261 

his  confidence  in  Parkins  he  sent  him  to  Quebec 
with  an  order  for  gold  coin,  to  relieve  the  priests 
of  the  region,  whose  needs  were  urgent  after  the 
winter's  deep  snows.  The  scrip  of  the  company 
had  fallen  far  below  par,  which  caused  a  dull 
roar  among  the  thrifty  tree  choppers. 

Long  days  of  hard  travel  brought  Parkins 
once  more  to  the  civilization  of  a  big  city,  and 
he  reveled  in  it.  His  long  suffering  thirst  quickly 
turned  his  feet  toward  the  hotel  barroom  where, 
with  his  escort,  tumbler  after  tumbler  of  Scotch 
and  soda  were  consumed.  But  Parkins  was 
wary.  He  poured  out  large  portions  for  his  com- 
panion, but  small  drinks  for  himself.  Then  later, 
a  hotel  porter  helped  the  drunken  man  to  bed. 

With  his  escort  out  of  the  way,  Parkins 
hastened  to  the  bank  with  the  check  calling  for 
gold.  The  bulk  of  it  almost  filled  the  satchel  he 
carried. 

And  now  was  his  chance  to  escape  on  the 
night  boat  for  Montreal,  there  to  connect  with 
railway  transportation  to  New  York.  His  beard 
and  mustache  of  a  few  weeks'  growth  now 
needed  a  trim,  as  he  decided  to  continue  wearing 
them.  At  Montreal  these  matters  were  attended 


262  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to,  likewise  the  purchase  of  several  suits  of  Eng- 
lish cut,  and  a  bag  of  the  tourist  variety,  which 
held  much,  and  could  be  plastered  with  foreign 
labels  of  his  own  selection.  All  this  he  had  done 
during  his  one  day  in  the  city,  and  his  tickets 
were  purchased  for  gay  old  New  York.  From 
that  time  on  he  haunted  the  hotel  bar  and  filled 
himself  to  the  brim.  As  his  train  crept  slowly 
out  of  the  Montreal  station  in  the  late  after- 
noon, Parkins'  one  fear  was  of  the  U.  S.  revenue 
officers  across  the  border,  who  might  search  his 
bag  and  seize  the  six  bottles  hidden  among  its 
contents.  But  one  flask  was  kept  in  his  overcoat 
pocket  and  long  before  midnight  its  contents 
were  gone. 

Along  in  early  hours  of  the  following  morning, 
about  the  usual  time  for  the  bath  and  shower, 
Updyke  in  New  York  heard  a  rap  on  his  door.  A 
telegram  was  slipped  under  it,  as  the  big  fellow 
tumbled  out  to  see  who  was  there.  He  picked 
up  the  message,  and  as  he  tore  off  the  envelope, 
his  mind  reverted  to  the  night  of  all  nights  that 
would  follow  this  day.  For  that  reason  he  eyed 
the  yellow  sheet  with  apprehension.  It  was  from 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      263 

his  Montreal  Agency,  and  as  he  read  its  contents 
Updyke's  eyes  blazed  with  fury. 

"Man  with  new  growth  black  beard  and  mus- 
tache boarded  New  York  Central  train  one  thirty 
this  afternoon  stop  arrived  on  night  boat  from 
Quebec  stop  bought  new  outfit  clothes  stop  also 
large  english  bag  and  foreign  labels  stop  had 
whiskers  and  mustache  trimmed  Van  Dyck  at 
Queens  hotel  stop  paid  all  bills  in  Canadian  gold 
stop  changed  five  hundred  in  gold  into  american 
bank  notes  stop  think  he  is  your  man  act  quick 
stop  signed  Updyke  Agency." 

Updyke  threw  on  a  dressing  gown  and  method- 
ically started  the  ball  to  rolling.  His  night  man 
was  just  on  the  point  of  turning  the  office  over 
to  the  day  manager  when  the  voice  of  the  boss 
came  through.  Jackson,  the  night  manager,  an- 
swered the  call  and  was  given  some  quick  in- 
structions. 

"Is  Bloss  there  yet?"  Updyke  asked,  sharply. 

"Yes — just  getting  ready  to  leave." 

"Give  him  a  wire  so  he  can  listen  in — also  a 
stenographer." 

"All  set,"  said  Jackson. 

"Parkins  has  escaped  unless  I  am  badly  mis- 
taken. Listen  to  this  telegram  from  Montreal" 


2tf4  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

— then  followed  the  contents  of  the  message  in  a 
voice  of  staccato  precision. 

"Now,  go  to  it.  No  doubt  about  this  fellow 
being  Parkins,  is  there?" 

"Not  here,"  answered  Bloss  receiving  a  nod 
from  Jackson. 

"You're  not  going  to  fall  down  on  this,  boys. 
I'm  confident  of  that.  Don't  tip  it  to  the  police 
until  you  hear  from  me.  We  may  have  to  stall 
him  for  he  would  be  a  fool  to  walk  into  Grand 
Central — but  cover  it  just  the  same.  That  train 
makes  a  stop  at  Buffalo,  Syracuse,  Rochester, 
Albany — and  sometimes  at  Yonkers.  Use  long 
distance,  on  all  those  cities  as  he  may  stop  off 
and  change  to  Pullmans  attached  to  trains  from 
the  west.  Miss  Johnson  was  to  be  absent  to-day 
but  I  think  I'll  call  her  anyhow.  Then  she  will 
know  what  is  going  on.  So  long — don't  get  rat- 
tled— keep  your  noodles  working — and  get  this 
man !  I'll  be  down  soon,"  growled  the  big  fellow, 
as  he  hung  up  the  receiver  and  set  the  shower 
going. 

A  little  later  on  Mary  Johnson,  with  a  smile 
of  anticipation,  answered  a  ring  from  the  tele- 
phone bell.  She  was  sure  it  was  Updyke,  and 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      265 

with  a  laugh  at  his  nerve  for  rousing  her  out  of 
bed  on  her  first  day  off,  she  finally  answered  the 
call. 

"I  just  knew  it  was  you,"  said  she — "now,  what 
about  my  beauty  sleep!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
laugh.  "I  wanted  to  look  pretty  to-night." 

"Everything  is  off  for  to-night,"  replied  Up- 
dyke,  manlike,  not  stopping  to  think  how  jarring 
were  the  words  he  had  spoken. 

Mary  Johnson,  unnerved,  awaiting  further 
explanation. 

"Did  you  get  that?"  he  asked,  with  equal 
abruptness. 

"Oh,  quite  so! — my  little  dream  won't  come 
true,"  said  she,  in  a  queer  small  voice  that 
brought  Updyke  back  to  earth  in  a  hurry. 

"Well,  my  dear  little  Mary,  there  is  a  big 
hustle  on  in  our  office  this  morning  and  I  want 
you  to  come  down.  Parkins  has  escaped  and  is 
headed  this  way — due  this  morning.  The  night 
and  day  managers  are  both  on  for  the  day,  and 
I  need  you,"  said  Updyke,  in  gentle  voice. 

"I'll  be  down  in  an  hour,  dear  big  man,  and 
will  stay  until  we  get  him,"  replied  Mary  with 
her  usual  workaday  emphasis.  "Good-bye,  dear, 


266  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

don't  worry — we  will  run  him  down  before 
night." 

And  so  began  a  careful  and  constant  search 
for  a  man  who  looked  like  Parkins  until  the 
Updyke  Agency  was  all  out  of  breath.  Also 
every  soul  in  it  worn  to  a  frazzle.  But  Mary 
Johnson  failed  to  show  a  single  sign  of  the  weari- 
ness she  must  have  felt,  as  with  bright  eyes  and 
alert  brain  she  steadied  the  forces  about  her. 
George  Carver,  using  every  Ranger  on  Long 
Island,  invaded  all  places  that  offered  conceal- 
ment. The  hut,  on  the  outer  drive,  was  to  be 
watched  day  and  night  and  the  old  home  of 
Winifred  at  Patchogue  had  a  guard  inside  its 
door.  Dreamy  Hollow  and  the  Sawyer  home 
were  also  included  as  a  zone  to  be  protected, 
although  the  reasons  given  seemed  far-fetched 
and  foolish. 

"You  never  can  tell,"  bellowed  Updyke,  by 
phone,  as  he  warned  Mrs.  Bond  that  eternal 
vigilance  was  the  price  of  safety,  when  a  de- 
mented brain  roamed  at  large. 

"But  I  can't  get  to  Mr.  Villard,"  she  urged  as 
a  reason  for  not  doing  more  in  the  way  of  safe- 
guarding the  premises. 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      267 

"Then  tell  Santzi  I  say  to  watch  out  for  Mr. 
Villard's  safety,"  answered  Updyke — "and  use 
Jacques  on  the  early  watch.  If  necessary  Jerry 
can  drive  an  automobile  but  he  would  not  make 
a  good  night  watchman." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Updyke,  I'll  do  as  you  say," 
said  Mrs.  Bond — "but  for  the  life  of  me  I  don't 
see  why  he  would  want  to  harm  Mr.  Villard." 

"I'll  give  one  reason  that  will  suffice — he 
thinks  Mr.  Villard  caused  him  to  lose  Winifred 
Barbour." 

"Well,  of  all  the  fools!"  exclaimed  the  house- 
keeper. 

"He  may  have  been  pretty  near  right,  Mrs. 
Bond." 

"Well  I  never  was  more  surprised  than  right 
now,"  she  replied. 

"Good  night,  and  don't  worry,"  answered  the 
big  fellow.  "Just  keep  your  eyes  open  and  call 
me  up  even  if  it  is  but  a  single  thought  that  you 
think  might  have  a  bearing  upon  the  case." 

From  that  moment  Mrs.  Bond  became  a  silent 
watcher  over  every  circumstance  that  connected 
itself  with  the  master  of  Dreamy  Hollow — but  a 
week  passed  by  and  all  was  serene.  It  must  have 


268  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

been  aome  one  other  than  Parkins  that  wore  the 
black  beard  and  mustache. 

"Well,  Mary/'  said  Updyke  one  day,  as  eve- 
ning drew  near,  "I'm  ready  to  give  that  little  us- 
two  party.  Shall  we  go  as  we  are,  or  shall  we 
make  it  to-morrow  night?" 

"To-morrow  night,  dear — I  want  to  look  pretty 
when  you  continue  that  proposal,"  she  teased. 
"Or  is  that  withdrawn?" 

"That  will  never  happen,  little  lady.  You  be 
ready  when  I  drive  up  at  seven-thirty  sharp  to- 
morrow evening.  After  we  take  a  little  spin  we 
will  drop  back  to  the  Swathmere  and  dine  on 
the  roof." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  tremendous!"  exclaimed  the 
delighted  Miss  Johnson,  as  she  withdrew  her 
hand  from  the  grip  of  her  big  fellow. 

An  hour  later,  as  she  sat  in  her  cozy  room 
building  air  castles  instead  of  reading  the  book 
that  she  held  in  her  hand,  the  telephone  rang, 
and  the  castles  all  tumbled  as  she  answered  the 
call. 

"Am  leaving  for  Dreamy  Hollow — want  to  go 
along?  It  is  a  lovely  night — moon  and  all  that 
— love  to  have  you — back  in  three  or  four  hours." 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      269 

"No  sir! — to-morrow  night — I  must  look  my 
best — so  early  to  bed  for  me.  But  Henry,  do 
be  careful.  What  is  the  trouble  down  there?" 
she  asked  in  her  most  professional  tone  of  voice. 

"Oh,  he  wants  me  to  come !  and  this  is  the  first 
time  since — you  know  what  I  mean,"  he  con- 
cluded. 

"Take  my  advice,  and  have  one  of  the  men 
along,"  continued  the  girl.  "I'd  feel  easier, 
Henry." 

"Very  well,  I'll  do  it  to  please  you." 

And  that  was  the  last  word  she  heard  from 
him  until  the  next  day  at  noon. 

When  Updyke  reached  Dreamy  Hollow  every- 
thing was  in  turmoil.  Parkins  had  been  there 
and  the  master  lay  in  a  comatose  condition,  and 
perhaps  dying. 

At  seven  o'clock  Jacques,  the  chauffeur,  car- 
ried a  tray  of  light  food  to  his  master  who  now 
ate  alone  in  his  private  office.  An  hour  later  he 
would  return  for  the  tray,  which  had  become  the 
nightly  habit.  As  Jacques  opened  the  door,  on 
his  return  for  the  tray  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver 
was  shoved  in  his  face. 

"Hands  up!"  whispered  a  man  with  a  mask 


270  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

over  his  nose  and  forehead,  a  growth  of  black 
whiskers  concealing  the  rest  of  his  face. 

Frightened  beyond  ability  to  shout  the  serv- 
ant held  up  his  hands,  and  was  gagged  in  a  jiffy 
and  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back.  At  the  point 
of  a  revolver  he  was  motioned  to  lie  down  on  the 
deep  cushioned  lounge,  and  by  the  look  of  the 
man  who  held  the  weapon,  he  was  convinced  that 
he  must  obey  or  be  killed. 

Villard,  abstracted,  had  not  even  looked  up 
from  the  desk  where  his  eyes  searched  a  docu- 
ment. Apparently  he  had  been  oblivious  to  the 
almost  noiseless  hold-up  within  forty  feet  from 
where  he  sat,  his  back  being  turned  toward  the 
great  empty  space  over  which  the  intruder  had 
walked  to  a  chair  by  his  side.  The  next  thing 
he  knew  he  was  looking  into  the  muzzle  of  a 
revolver,  with  silencer  attachment.  That  was 
enough.  He  didn't  care  to  look  at  the  person 
who  held  it.  But  in  a  carefully  modulated  voice 
he  said — 

"I  am  a  very  sick  man.  I'm  given  up  to  die 
by  the  doctors.  I  am  putting  my  affairs  in 
order,"  he  concluded,  but  without  seeming  in- 
terest in  how  his  words  had  been  taken. 


"  I'VE  COME  TO  SQUARE  ACCOUNTS  WITH  YOU 
DRURY  VILLARD!" 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      271 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  demanded  the  man, 
his  voice  husky  with  passion. 

"Yes,  William,  I  know  you,"  replied  Villard 
wearily,  as  the  boy  Jacques,  alarmed,  listened  to 
the  conversation. 

"I've  come  to  square  accounts  with  you,  Drury 
Villard.  I'm  a  desperate  character  and  I  don't 
care  what  happens,"  said  Parkins  tearing  the 
mask  from  his  face.  "You  drove  me  into  slavery, 
and  all  because  you  loved  my  sweetheart.  You 
coveted  my  woman  and  you  tore  her  from  me  by 
the  use  of  your  hirelings.  You  bought  up  the 
law  by  using  Updyke's  crooked  bunch  of  high- 
waymen. He  sicked  Carver  onto  me,  who  tore 
my  Winifred  away — then  your  soulless  lieuten- 
ant put  me  through  a  hell  of  mental  torture — 
and  that's  what  I  am  going  to  do  to  you !" 

"Very  well,  William — since  you  have  assumed 
to  judge  me  by  the  action  of  another.  You  seized 
Winifred  in  an  illegal  manner.  I  owed  the  girl 
a  certain  hospitality,  since  I  rescued  her,  and 
took  her  into  my  home  where  she  was  nursed 
back  to  life,"  said  Villard,  in  a  very  even  tone  of 
voice. 

"You  rescued  her! — you  mean,  that  because 


272  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

she  struck  your  fancy  you  gathered  her  up  and 
took  her  into  your  home  and  tried  to  win  her 
love!"  shouted  Parkins,  not  caring  who  heard 
him.  "Now  I  want  to  know  what  you've  done 
with  her — if  she  is  on  these  premises,  produce 
her!" 

"I  am  unable  to  do  that." 

"Then  you  refuse?" 

"She  isn't  here-^she  hasn't  been  here  since 
she  went  back  to  Patchogue." 

"Is  she  there  now?" 

"No." 

"Where  is  she — speak  up  Villard!  I  am  in  a 
dangerous  mood." 

"I  refuse  to  answer,"  replied  the  old  time 
friend  and  employer  of  Parkins. 

"I'll  give  you  one  minute,  and  if  you  have  not 
answered  by  that  time  I  shall  give  you  a  'third 
degree'  with  the  butt  of  this  gun." 

All  during  the  time  that  Parkins  held  his 
watch  in  hand  Villard  sat  motionless  and  with- 
out protest.  A  minute  seems  long  when  one 
counts  the  slow  seconds,  but  short,  indeed,  when 
one  gives  no  heed. 

"Last  call — one — two— three — that's  the  way 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      273 

your  TJpdyke  man  counted  the  seconds  for 
me  —  four  —  five  —  six  —  seven  —  eight  —  nine 
— ten — time's  up — here  goes,"  and  with  that  Par- 
kins, his  eyes  staring,  jumped  to  his  feet  and 
struck  Villard  on  the  back  of  his  head  in  the 
manner  he  had  warned. 

Knocked  senseless,  the  victim  would  have 
fallen  to  the  floor,  but  his  persecutor  was  not 
through  with  him.  Jacques  groaned  piteously, 
as,  helpless,  he  heard  the  blow  fall,  and  felt  sure 
that  the  master  was  killed. 

"Shut  up,  you  vassal,  over  there!"  shouted 
Parkins,  now  frenzied  as  he  chafed  Villard's 
hands  and  stretched  out  his  arms.  Not  effecting 
results,  he  bent  the  limp  body  over  the  desk  and 
pushed  the  chair  closely  up  to  it.  Then  he  ran 
to  the  tray  that  Jacques  had  put  on  the  floor, 
and  seized  the  glass  of  water  that  stood  on  it. 
This  he  dashed  into  Villard's  face  and  slowly  the 
huge  body  responded.  A  minute  went  by  before 
he  opened  his  eyes  and  tried  to  stagger  to  his 
feet,  but  Parkins,  remorseless,  shoved  him  back 
in  the  chair. 

"Wake  up  and  talk — where  is  she?" 

Only  a  moaning  sound  gave  answer. 


274  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"You  old  cradle  robber,  why  don't  you  speak 
up  in  defense  of  yourself.  It  was  all  right  for 
you  to  love  her,  but  for  me  it  was  a  crime!  I 
always  treated  her  right,  until  you  put  false  no- 
tions in  her  head.  When  I  finally  rose  out  of  a 
sick  bed  and  got  her  back  into  my  care,  where 
she  belonged,  your  big  Wall  Street  hireling  set 
his  dogs  loose  and  they  finally  ran  me  down." 

"I'll  go  to  my  bed/'  said  Villard,  trying  to  rise 
from  his  seat. 

"You'll  stay  where  you  are  and  die  in  that 
chair  if  you  make  a  move  to  leave  it !  Where  is 
the  girl  you  stole !"  he  shouted,  his  eyes  flaming 
with  hate. 

At  that  moment  the  far  door  opened  and  the 
faces  of  Santzi  and  Jerry  came  into  view.  One 
glance,  and  they  yelled  as  if  stricken  with  night- 
mare, then  ran  out  and  shouted  to  the  watchman. 

By  the  time  they  returned  Parkins  had  flown. 

Villard,  however,  now  lying  full  length  upon 
the  floor,  was  in  need  of  quick  attention.  Dr. 
Sawyer  was  sent  for,  and  Dr.  Benton  was 
phoned.  Pending  their  arrival  the  master  was 
picked  up  and  carried  to  the  couch  where  Jacques 
had  laid  helpless  as  he  listened  to  Parkins'  cruel 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      275 

words.  When  his  master  fell  to  the  floor,  he 
rolled  off  and  groaned. 

And  it  was  just  at  this  time  that  Updyke  rolled 
in,  without  knowledge  of  the  terrible  tragedy 
that  had  been  enacted.  When  told,  he  thanked 
his  stars  that  Mary  Johnson  had  not  joined  him 
in  his  moonlight  excursion.  Then  he  thought  of 
the  leisurely  run  he  had  made  and  bitterly  ac- 
cused himself  of  procrastination.  Ten  minutes 
would  have  saved  Villard  from  possible  death, 
and  he  had  "fooled"  away  half  an  hour  by  slow 
driving. 

Once  in  action,  however,  the  big  fellow  gave 
quick  account  of  himself.  He  threw  off  his  coat, 
called  for  ammonia,  and  then  began  to  move  the 
victim's  arms  and  legs,  and  peeped  at  the  whites 
of  his  eyes.  One  whiff  of  the  bottle  caused  the 
injured  man  to  stir,  the  cold  water  applications 
resulting  in  the  definite  movement  of  the  arms 
and  legs.  Suspended  animation  was  quickly 
released. 

When  Dr.  Benton  arrived  Updyke  looked  on 
for  a  moment,  and  then  began  to  collect  the  facts. 
He  knew  that  Parkins  had  been  the  assailant 
from  first  description  and  now  was  his  chance 


276  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to  learn  from  Jacques  the  details  of  the  crime, 
particularly  of  the  words  spoken  by  Parkins  to 
Villard.  Still  trembling,  the  youngsters,  assisted 
by  Updyke,  promptly  gave  a  well-connected  story 
of  the  affair,  and  with  that  to  go  on,  the  big 
fellow  cleared  the  private  office,  and  warned 
against  interruptions  while  he  was  engaged  with 
Long  Distance. 

Meanwhile,  by  his  order,  no  one  on  the  prem- 
ises should  leave  it,  nor  should  any  one  talk 
about  the  case. 

"I  don't  want  a  word  to  leak  about  this,"  said 
he  to  Mrs.  Bond.  "Mr.  Villard  was  in  no  way 
to  blame  for  it,  therefore  he  should  not  be  sub- 
jected to  wild  rumors  that  would  involve  his 
good  name  and  that  of  a  pure  young  woman  now 
happily  married." 

"I  will  talk  to  all  of  the  servants  and  appeal 
to  their  sense  of  justice,  for  they  all  love  the 
master,"  replied  Mrs.  Bond.  "That  we  will  all 
keep  mum,  you  may  be  sure." 

"And  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  throw  a 
scare  in  along  with  the  rest.  For  instance,  if 
anything  leaks  out  about  this  I'll  know  where  it 
comes  from  in  a  very  few  hours,  and  that  will 


PARKINS  RUNS  AMUCK      277 

bring  trouble  for  whoever  is  guilty.  You  make 
that  strong,  Mrs.  Bond,  for  I  mean  every  word  of 
it,"  said  Updyke,  pointing  a  very  large  finger  at 
the  fat  little  housekeeper. 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  sighed  Mrs.  Bond. 

"Well,  I  am  sure  of  that,  and  you  keep  every- 
body on  their  toes  until  I  arrange  my  plans. 
We'll  sleep  in  relays  to-night,  but  to-morrow  I'll 
throw  a  human  network  around  this  place." 

Hour  upon  hour  the  big  fellow  with  his  mouth 
to  the  phone,  spread  the  web  for  the  human 
spider  that  had  crawled  out  into  the  black  of 
night.  Sawyer  came  in  with  news  concerning 
Villard  from  time  to  time,  but  Updyke,  grim 
and  preoccupied,  merely  nodded  his  head  and 
motioned  him  back  to  the  sick  man.  At  mid- 
night he  finally  succeeded  in  arousing  George 
Carver,  who  with  his  bride  had  been  bridge- 
whisting  all  evening  in  a  near-by  home. 

"I  need  you,  George,"  appealed  Updyke,  "but 
you  get  about  three  hours'  sleep  before  we  talk 
about  it.  I  don't  want  you  to  lose  the  much 
needed  rest  from  now  until  three  A.  M.,  over 
something  that  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  do.  I'll 
call  you  at  sharp  three,  and  at  three  thirty  your 


278  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

flivver   will   be   in   front   of   your   hotel — good 
night." 

"Good  night,  you  old  sleep  burglar.  I'll  turn 
in  at  once,"  replied  Carrer — and  the  web  was 
complete. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   HUT   ACROSS  THE   BAY 

IT  was  with  a  grunt  of  relief  that  Updyke 
called  Central  for  the  last  time  pending  the  three 
o'clock  date  with  Carver.  This  time  it  was  a 
certain  switchboard  operator  who  answered  him. 

"Miss  Johnson,"  said  the  big  fellow,  toning 
down  the  rasping  voice  that  had  been  vibrated  a 
thousand  miles  within  the  short  space  of  four 
•hours. 

"I  think  she  has  retired  for  the  night,"  lisped 
the  girl  in  charge. 

"Quit  thinking  and  connect  as  directed," 
snapped  Updyke,  forgetting  that  his  voice  was 
in  training  for  a  certain  event  at  the  Swath- 
mere.  "You  are  expected  to  act!  And  say — no 
listening.  Get  that?" 

The  next  voice  he  heard  was  that  of  Mary 
Johnson. 

"It's   about   time   you  said   something   from 

279 


280  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

somewhere,"  said  she,  knowing  that  the  unusual 
had  happened. 

"That  fellow  showed  up  at  Dreamy  Hollow  to- 
night— you  know  who.  Much  to  say  to-morrow 
morning — no  holiday  dinners  for  us  yet.  Get  to 
the  office  early,  say,  eight  thirty  and  I'll  spin 
the  yarn." 

"Big  Case?" 

"Getting  bigger  all  the  time." 

"That  little  dinner,  by  the  way — next  winter 
— soma  time?" 

"Not  on  your  sweet  young  life!  The  first 
breathing  spell." 

"I  was  joking  dear — you " 

"Of  course  you  were,  we're  always  joking, 
aren't  we?  As  long  as  we  joke,  we  won't 
quarrel !" 

"Speaking  of — you  know  who — did  you  see 
him?" 

"No — he  had  done  his  mischief  and  skedaddled 
a  few  moments  before  I  arrived.  First  real  bad 
luck  in  a  long  time.  Bad  mess  down  here !" 

"There  is  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  so  and 
so  is  in  the  web.  Will  he  go  out  to  his  old  haunt 
on  the  outer  drive?" 


THE  HUT  ACROSS  THE  BAY    281 

"In  time — but  not  now." 

"Why?" 

"He  would  expect  us  to  look  for  him  there 
— and  we  will — for  a  much  longer  time  than  he 
thinks." 

"Had  you  thought  of  Julie  Hayes — she  still 
runs  Winifred's  stand.  She  has  sharp  eyes  and 
sharp  wits.  She  can  keep  mum." 

"Now  that  is  a  first-class  tip.  I'll  put  George 
onto  that.  I'm  phoning  him  at  three  o'clock  to 
wake  him  up.  He  doesn't  know  it  yet,  but  I'm 
going  to  have  him  at  ths  hut  very  early  to-morrow 
morning.  He  can  see  Julie  and  put  her  wise." 

"I  believe  it  is  the  Swathmere  that  I'm  saving 
up  that  pretty  new  dress  for — is  it  not?"  teased 
Mary  Johnson. 

"Exactly  so,  dear  girl — if  we  ever  get  around 
to  it,"  mourned  the  big  fellow.  "I  am  more 
anxious  about  that  little  you-and-me  dinner  than 
any  other  thing  in  life,  except  one — that's  you !" 

"It's  time  you  got  back  on  your  job — good 
night!" 

"So  long,  dear — I'll  ring  you  at  the  office  soon 
as  possible  to-morrow  morning." 

"Take  a  little  nap — why  don't  you?" 


282  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"Yeah ! — take  a  little  nap ! — I  hardly  see  myself 
shutting  my  eyes  on  a  night  like  this.  But  I 
might — so  you  go  to  bed  yourself  and  get  that 
beauty  sleep." 

As  the  phones  clicked  off  Updyke  with  stub- 
born tenacity,  lunged  back  into  the  woof  of  his 
spider  web.  Everything  seemed  well  in  hand. 
Inquiry  as  to  Villard  showed  satisfactory  prog- 
ress. He  would  live,  but  how  he  would  come 
out  of  it  was  a  question  for  Father  Time  to  solve. 
Finally  he  called  for  Santzi  and  told  him  to  sit 
by  and  wake  him  at  prompt  two-forty-five,  and 
in  two  minutes  more  from  the  depths  of  the 
lounge  he  was  competing  with  the  fog  horns  of 
South  Bay. 

To  George  Carver  three  o'clock  was  an  un- 
earthly rising  hour,  as  many  a  man  would  will- 
ingly bear  witness.  But  Winifred,  at  two-thirty, 
had  switched  on  the  current  under  the  perco- 
lator, and  only  awaited  the  presence  of  her  liege 
lord  and  master  before  connecting  the  toaster. 

It  was  the  enticing  odor  of  the  bacon  and  cof- 
fee, not  the  alarm  clock's  mad  music,  that  sent 
the  young  husband  under  the  shower. 


THE  HUT  ACROSS  THE  BAY    283 

At  two-forty-five  the  telephone  tingled,  and 
Winifred  ran  forward  to  answer. 

"Are  you  up?"  shouted  a  well-known  voice,  in 
a  drowsy  tone. 

"Can't  you  smell  the  coffee  and  bacon?"  re- 
plied Winifred,  gaily — "and  the  noise  of  that 
awful  man  under  the  shower?  I'll  tell  him  you're 
waiting.  He's  making  more  fuss  than  a  por- 
poise," she  concluded  as  she  hastily  snatched  a 
bathrobe  and  hung  it  on  a  hook  near  the  shower 
room. 

"Parkins  has  disclosed  himself  and  his  where- 
abouts," were  Updyke's  first  words,  as  Wini- 
fred's husband  took  up  the  receiver. 

"That  sounds  interesting,"  replied  Carver, 
with  enthusiasm. 

"Glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  and  I'll  add — espe- 
cially so,  to  you !" 

"Humph !  Give  me  the  details,"  replied  Car- 
ver, who  analyzed  quickly. 

"Listen  carefully,  boy,  and  don't  get  excited 
about  anything  I  tell  you.  By  all  means  don't 
repeat  any  part  of  it  to  Winifred  that  concerns 
herself." 

"Yep — I  get  you — what's  up?" 


284  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"The  scoundrel  was  here  at  Dreamy  Hollow, 
just  after  dark.  I  was  on  my  way  down  but  he 
had  done  his  mischief  and  gone  before  I  arrived. 
The  scene  was  in  so  and  so's  office  where  he 
appeared  suddenly — bound  and  gagged  Jacques 
who  was  taking  out  a  tray  of  dishes.  Then 
slipped  over  to  so  and  so  and  covered  him  with  a 
silencer  automatic." 

"You  don't  say!" 

"Yep — he  demanded  the  whereabouts  of  a 
certain  girl — accused  so  and  so  of  stealing  her 
and  gave  him  a  third  degree.  So  and  so  stead- 
fastly refused  all  information,  giving  no  inkling 
of  her  marriage  or  address.  Julie  Hayes  is  the 
only  one  in  Patchogue  who  knows  her  real  ad- 
dress— get  me?" 

"Yep — go  on — what  happened  between  so  and 
so  and " 

"So  and  so  was  beaten  over  the  head  with  the 
butt  of  the  revolver — knocked  senseless.  Santzi 
and  Jerry  looked  in,  wondering  why  Jacques  had 
not  returned  with  the  tray  of  dishes.  Unarmed 
they  ran  to  spread  alarm,  but  the  whelp  had 
escaped  on  their  return." 

"How — only  one  door  to  the  room?" 


THE  HUT  ACROSS  THE  BAY    285 

"Just  one — and  only  two  windows — north  and 
east  corners,  for  light  on  his  desk.  No  furniture 
to  speak  of — just  his  big  square  flat-top,  council 
table — chair,  lounge,  and  filing  cases.  The  scoun- 
drel disappeared  through  the  east  window." 

"What  do  you  suggest  for  me  to  do?" 

"Light  out  as  quickly  as  possible  for  Pat- 
chogue.  See  Chief  Mack.  I  couldn't  reach  him 
by  phone.  Had  gone  somewhere — not  expected 
back  until  very  late.  I  left  word  for  him  to  call 
me,  but  he  hasn't  so  far." 

"Any  one  else?" 

"See  Julie  Hayes — she's  safe.  Have  her  keep 
sharp  eye  out  and  phone  me  here  anything  she 
sees  or  learns  about  the  scoundrel.  Then  you  go 
to  his  hut  on  the  outer  drive — pick  up  a  ranger 
at  Patchogue  and  have  him  stay  there  day  and 
night.  Have  him  supplied  with  provisions — 
Julie  will  help  him,  without  exposing  our  hand. 
Tell  her  I'll  pay  all  bills — have  them  sent  to  me, 
here." 

"You  must  feel  pretty  certain  that  he  will  turn 
up  at  the  hut — sooner  or  later?"  said  Carver 
enquiringly. 

"I  do — and  I  think  he  is  more  likely  to  go 


286  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

there  by  water/'  answered  Updyke,  with  a  ring 
of  conviction  in  his  voice. 

"Why  would  he  come  here  at  all  ?" 

"Because  he  has  a  lot  of  gold  to  conceal  that 
he  can't  deposit  without  answering  questions." 

"Why?" 

"It's  Canadian  coinage  mostly,  and  would 
come  under  suspicion." 

"Give  me  a  reason  for  that,"  said  Carver.  "I'm 
not  very  well  posted  in  such  matters." 

"He  was  sent  to  Quebec  with  the  pay  roll  of  a 
lumber  company,  up  in  the  timber  country,  where 
I  had  sent  him  for  keeps.  The  shyster  played 
square  and  seemed  so  honest  that  they  intrusted 
him  with  a  check  on  a  bank  in  Quebec.  He  kept 
on  going,  changing  into  American  money  as  fast 
as  he  could  without  arousing  suspicion.  He  has 
a  lot  of  gold  left  and  I  think  he  has  it  cached 
near  the  hut.  But  he  may  not  go  near  it  for 
some  time.  He  now  wears  whiskers  and  mus- 
tache, raven  black — I'd  say  from  description,  but 
he  is  easily  recognized.  Jacques  says  Villard 
knew  him  the  moment  he  saw  him.  Better  write 
out  a  'John  Doe'  and  have  it  ready.  I  don't  want 
his  real  name  to  come  out — yet,"  said  Updyke, 


THE  HUT  ACROSS  THE  BAY    287 

yawning  loud  enough  to  be  heard  at  Riverhead. 

"All  right,  Henry,  I'll  be  on  my  way.  I'll  let 
you  know  my  whereabouts  from  time  to  time. 
Better  turn  in  for  a  three  hours'  nap  while  I'm 
getting  to  destination." 

"That's  just  what  I'll  do,  now  that  you're  on 
the  job.  So  long,  and  good  luck." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  WOLF  HOUND'S  NEW  MASTER 

FAR  famed  detectives  have  lived  in  all  ages, 
but  it  remained  for  the  modern  operative  to 
enlarge  the  perspective.  Intuition  still  ruled  as 
a  first  qualification,  but  the  real  prime  requisite 
changed  to  "knowledge  of  men."  Not  only  their 
cunning  but  the  whites  of  their  eyes  and  the 
shapes  of  their  heads.  The  "hatchet  face"  one 
type,  the  "round  head"  another,  and  the  month 
they  were  born  in — an  important  clue  as  to  tem- 
perament. On  the  charts  prenatal  influence  had 
much  space  for  remarks — also  the  color,  of  eyes, 
and  the  color  of  hair,  curly  or  straight,  the  nose 
pug  or  aquiline — the  mouth  large  or  small — 
curved  up  or  down. 

Parkins,  on  the  Updyke  chart,  registered  as 
"low  brow,"  meaning  thick  hair  growing  far 
down  the  forehead — no  matter  the  color.  But 
when  considering  hair,  red  heads  warned  of  dan- 
ger— once  started,  they  fight.  Black  hair  gen- 

288 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         289 

erally  stood  for  impulsiveness  and  quick  temper. 
That  was  the  Parkins  type,  with  hair  as  dark  as 
a  raven.  Born  in  June,  his  stone  was  the  agate — 
naturally  drifting  toward  the  "good  fellow"  class 
— the  kind  that  need  wonderful  mothers  to  hold 
them  in  check  through  the  days  of  their  youth. 
George  Carver,  now  fliwering  his  way  to 
Patchogue,  was  a  brown  haired  "husky"  with  big 
open  face  that  bespoke  sterling  character,  and 
what  is  known  as  "horse  sense."  Instead  of  be- 
ing brilliant,  he  was  apt  and  quick  of  discern- 
ment. He  could  match  with  all  types  and  win  by 
his  coolness.  But  he  knew  the  value  of  getting 
in  with  the  first  blow.  To  him  a  run  on  lonesome 
roads  meant  nothing,  either  in  daylight  or  dark- 
ness— he  was  always  prepared — his  intuition 
unerring.  So  when  entering  Patchogue  he 
skirted  the  town  on  its  farthest  east  line  and  hit 
the  trail  for  the  outer  drive.  The  townspeople 
were  just  rubbing  their  eyes  before  leaving  their 
beds  when  he  muffled  his  engine  and  scooted 
across  the  little  city.  By  the  time  he  returned 
the  stores  would  be  open  and  Julie  Hayes  would 
have  taken  down  the  shutters  from  Winifred's 
booth. 


290  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

When  in  close  proximity  to  the  Parkins  hut 
his  small  car,  with  hood  down,  was  turned  off  the 
trail  into  an  arroyo.  From  there,  with  a  pair 
of  strong  field  glasses  in  the  early  morning  light, 
he  drew  the  little  shack  right  up  to  his  eyes.  He 
could  see  every  crack  in  the  unpainted  planks, 
and  by  maneuvering,  belly  fashion,  along  the 
grassy  slope,  he  gained  a  knowledge  of  three 
sides.  In  the  rear  a  huge  wolfhound  lay  curled 
in  a  heap,  and  the  chain  in  its  collar  reached 
through  the  boarding,  evidently  permitting  re- 
lease from  inside. 

It  was  a  dangerous  moment,  had  a  breeze  from 
the  north  been  stirring,  for  one  whiff  of  strange 
flesh  might  have  brought  on  a  death  struggle. 
With  an  automatic  forty-five  silencer  drawn 
along  at  his  right  side,  and  a  pistol  in  holster 
for  close  quarters,  Carver  drew  a  "bead"  on  the 
dog  and  awaited  further  developments.  He 
watched  the  big  brute  with  the  eyes  of  a  hawk, 
and  noted  through  his  glasses  that  the  animal 
slept  uneasily.  It  might  have  been  the  cold  of 
early  morning,  but  a  wolf  hound  had  never  been 
known  to  shiver  in  less  than  zero  weather. 
Carver  was  well  posted  on  dogs.  He  was  that 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         291 

type  of  man  at  whom  dogs  never  snapped  or 
offered  to  bite.  So,  with  silencer  in  readiness,  he 
puckered  his  lips  and  gave  a  low  whistle. 

At  once  the  big  brute  arose  to  his  haunches 
and  whined. 

Something  wrong  about  the  premises  was 
Carver's  first  thought.  A  dog  of  that  breed 
would  not  bid  for  friendship  with  a  stranger 
unless  actuated  by  an  instinct  that  a  friend  was 
near  by.  But  it  was  no  time  to  take  chances. 
The  first  thing  he  thought  of  was  that  Parkins 
had  not  returned  and  the  dog  had  been  left  with- 
out water  or  food.  On  the  other  hand  a  wolf 
hound  invariably  fought  the  stranger  at  its  gate. 
They  were  never  allowed  to  roam  at  large  except 
in  forest  camps,  or  on  extensive  estates.  The 
situation  was  altogether  strange,  and,  to  prove  it, 
Carver  rose  to  his  knees. 

He  expected  a  wild  lunge  on  the  part  of  the 
dog  but  the  brute  rose  to  all  fours  and  wagged 
his  tail,  whining  the  while,  as  he  strained  at  his 
chain.  That  seemed  full  evidence  that  Parkins 
was  not  in  the  hut,  and  forthwith  he  stood  up 
and  walked  toward  the  dog,  now  manifesting 
great  joy.  At  the  length  of  his  chain  Carver 


292  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

reached  out  his  hand,  but  with  one  eye  on  the 
hut — then  he  patted  the  dog  on  its  head. 

That  settled  the  friendship  between  them. 
Carver  then  pulled  out  a  chocolate  bar  and  tear- 
ing off  the  wrapper  reached  out  his  hand.  One 
sniff  and  the  big  brute  took  it  into  his  mouth  and 
practically  swallowed  it  whole.  He  was  starv- 
ing— further  evidence  that  the  master  was  still 
at  large. 

After  parting  with  his  last  piece  of  chocolate 
Carver  walked  to  the  front  of  the  hut  and  tried 
the  door. 

It  was  locked. 

He  then  took  out  a  bunch  of  keys  and  tried  to 
fit  one  in  the  lock,  but  none  of  them  would  enter. 

Then  he  reached  for  his  electric  torch  and 
peered  into  the  keyhole — there  was  a  key  inside 
that  obstructed! 

Carver  dropped  to  the  ground,  on  his  stomach, 
and  with  his  automatic  reached  far  up  on  the 
door  and  gave  it  a  thump. 

There  was  no  response,  whereupon  Carver 
shouted — "Parkins"  in  a  voice  both  harsh  and 
loud. 

"Wake  up,  you  scoundrel,  and  open  this  door ! 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         293 

You  can't  play  any  tricks  on  us!  We've  got  you 
surrounded !  Make  one  bad  move  and  we'll  kill 
you !" 

There  was  no  answer — except  the  whining  of 
the  dog  in  the  rear. 

"What  do  you  say,  boys!"  shouted  Carver  to 
his  "phantom"  companions.  "Shall  we  burn 
the  place  down?  Those  in  favor  will  raise  their 
right  hands!  Unanimous,  eh? — then  bring  the 
oil  can,"  continued  Carver,  who  shouted — 

"We  give  you  one  minute  to  open  the  door — 
hush  boys ! — keep  your  eyes  open,  and  cover  this 
place.  When  I  say  the  word  put  a  match  to  the 
oil!" 

Then  all  became  still  save  the  dog  in  the  rear, 
which  strained  at  its  chain  and  sent  up  pitiful 
howls,  as  if  baying  at  the  moon  now  fading  in 
the  early  daylight.  No  answer  forthcoming  he 
kicked  at  the  door  and  it  made  his  blood  tingle 
as  it  swung  back — wide  open ! 

Carver  jumped  to  one  side  and  reached  for  his 
torch,  with  that  in  his  left  hand  he  searched  the 
front  room.  It  was  a  moment  when  courage  had 
no  chance  to  take  counsel.  The  advantage  now 
lay  with  the  man  that  he  sought.  The  glare  of 


294  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

the  torchlight  swung  into  each  corner,  all  over 
the  room,  and  under  the  bed,  but  only  a  shirt  and 
some  clothing  lay  on  top  of  it.  Parkins  had  been 
there  recently  for  the  imprint  of  his  body  showed 
on  the  coverlet  and  an  empty  bottle  rested  under 
the  pillow.  Next  came  the  bath-kitchenette. 

One  glance  into  that  and  the  story  was  told! 

In  his  night  clothes  Parkins  lay  dead  in  his 
bath  tub,  his  legs  at  the  bottom  and  his  dead  body 
floating.  His  eyes,  partly  closed,  seemed  to  stare 
at  a  picture,  an  old-fashioned  daguerreotype. 
"From  Mother"  was  printed  at  the  bottom  of  the 
cheap  little  frame.  On  the  floor  were  empty  bot- 
tles, and  one  partly  filled,  was  clutched  in  the 
dead  man's  hand.  Evidently  he  had  placed  it 
there  within  easy  reach,  as  he  lay  in  the  water 
refreshing  himself — hours  after  his  escape  from 
Dreamy  Hollow. 

Making  careful  notation  on  a  sheet  from  his 
note  book  Carver  drew  a  rough  plan  of  the  scene 
to  be  given  to  Updyke.  In  a  combination  cup- 
board he  found  the  remainder  of  a  parcel  of 
food,  crackers  and  sausage,  and  a  slice  of  cold 
beef.  These  were  fed  to  the  famishing  dog,  then 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         295 

closing  the  door  he  hurried  back  to  Patchogue, 
where  he  phoned  Dreamy  Hollow. 

"Well— it's  all  for  the  best,"  said  Updyke,  not 
without  a  shade  of  sorrow  at  the  tragic  death  of 
the  man.  "He  was  a  stormy  petrel,  as  I've  often 
said,  and  he  sacrificed  his  life  upon  the  altar  of 
booze." 

"I'm  thinking  of  Winifred,"  said  Carver,  husk- 
ily. "She " 

"Calm  your  soul  on  that  point — she  never 
loved  him.  He  was  thought  to  be  a  friend  of 
the  family,  but  she  found  that  he  was  just  an  old- 
fashioned  knave.  She  and  I  have  talked  over  this 
whole  matter,  and  I  know  what  I  say  is  true. 
Shall  I  phone  her  the  news?" 

"Yes,  if  you  will.  What  shall  I  do  about  the 
corpse?" 

"Just  turn  the  whole  matter  over  to  the  coro- 
ner, and  if  any  questions  are  asked,  refer  him 
to  me.  There  is  no  longer  any  chance  of  pub- 
licity. A  burial  notice  among  the  paid  advertise- 
ments. That's  best  for  him,  and  best  for  all. 
After  you  have  made  your  report  to  the  coro- 
ner beat  it  for  home  and  go  to  bed/' 


296  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

"But  that  wonderful  dog — I  want  him!  We 
already  love  each  other." 

"Go  get  him  and  take  him  with  you.  But  don't 
you  ever  tell  your  wife  that  he  once  belonged 
to  so  and  so.  Just  say  that  the  poor  thing  seemed 
to  have  no  master  so  you  picked  him  up  and 
brought  him  home.  Now  that  is  no  lie." 

"You  are  a  great  old  bird,  Henry.  I'll  do  as 
you  say.  No  use  to  talk  with  Julie,  I  imagine, 
except  about  the  booth." 

"That's  all,"  said  Updyke,  "go  on  about  your 
business  and  I'll  pick  up  the  matter  just  where 
you  left  off." 

"Tell  Mary  that  she  may  stand  a  chance  to  get 
that  quiet  little  dinner  after  all,"  laughed  Car- 
ver. 

"What  do  you  know  about  that?" 

"I'm  a  married  man  and  we  fellows  know 
everything !" 

"That  will  be  all  from  you !  I  may  cut  you  out 
of  my  gold  expedition,  if  you  get  gay.  So  long." 

The  death  and  burial  of  William  Parkins  re- 
ceived the  exact  amount  of  space  that  Updyke 
had  indicated  to  George  Carver — four  nonpareil 
lines  among  the  death  notices — paid  for  by  the 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         297 

Updyke  Agency.  Henry  Updyke  himself  wrote 
the  announcement.  And  then  came  the  search 
for  the  stolen  funds  which  were  quickly  found 
within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  hut  with  only  a 
thousand  missing.  The  Quebec  Agency  was  noti- 
fied quickly  and  the  bank  officers  were  profoundly 
thankful.  They  wanted  to  reward  the  agent,  but 
that  was  tabooed  by  a  terse  telegram. 

"We  never  take  money  that  we  do  not  earn 
stop  we  sent  the  man  up  in  your  country  to  re- 
form him  stop  we  accept  the  liability  as  our  own 
and  are  sending  check  today  for  a  thousand.  For 
all  favors  we  thank  you — signed  Updyke." 

At  last  came  the  evening  when,  without  the 
least  "fuss  and  feathers,"  Mary  Johnson  leaned 
back  in  Henry  Updyke's  big  car  and  drank  in 
the  ozone  of  Westchester  county.  She  looked  a 
dream  in  her  light  summer  furs  and  stylish  coat 
that  concealed  her  pretty  party  gown.  Twenty 
miles  whizzed  by  with  little  in  the  way  of  conver- 
sation when  suddenly  the  car  made  a  quick  turn, 
and  stopped  in  the  shadows  of  a  great  boulder. 
Behind  them  lay  Riverdale,  and  the  black  for- 
ests of  Spuyten  Duyvel  loomed  ahead,  just 
across  the  East  River,  five  hundred  feet  below. 


298  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

The  moon  was  now  doing  its  best  to  light  up  the 
mighty  Hudson.  Nothing  like  this  grandeur  had 
Mary  Johnson's  eyes  beheld.  A  thrill  of  ecstasy 
crept  into  her  heart.  A  new  world  was  opening 
before  her,  and  all  within  the  limits  of  little  old 
Manhattan,  where  all  kinds  of  worlds  exist — pay 
as  you  enter  and  take  your  choice. 

"I  never  dreamed  of  such  splendor!"  sighed 
Mary,  her  heart  filled  with  emotion,  which  was 
just  like  most  women,  who  cry  when  they  are 
glad. 

"Well,  little  girl,  while  you  go  on  dreaming  I'm 
going  to  say  something  to  you,"  said  Updyke, 
gruffly. 

"I'm  always  glad  to  hear  your  voice,  dear," 
replied  the  girl  still  awed  by  the  scene. 

"I  love  you!"  exclaimed  Updyke,  in  as  harsh 
a  tone  as  a  frightened  man  of  his  size  could  mus- 
ter. 

"Say  it  again,"  said  Mary,  snuggling  closer. 

"I  meant  it  the  first  time,  and  I  never  repeat," 
he  fumed  uneasily. 

"Oh,  do — just  to  please  me,"  she  whispered. 

"No,  mam ! — what  I  want  is  a  kiss !" 

"S'pose  we  kiss  each  other — dear?" 


THE  WOLF  HOUND         299 

"All  right  here  goes,"  and  with  that  Updyke 
took  her  bodily  into  his  arms  and  held  her  there 
until  the  moon  lady  looked  down  and  laughed  at 
them.  And  when  all  was  said,  and  the  gardens 
of  their  two  hearts  had  been  merged  into  one,  Up- 
dyke suddenly  recollected  the  seats  he  had  en- 
gaged on  the  Swathmere  roof. 

"I  am  hungry,  Mary.  Shall  we  jog  along 
back?"  he  asked  meekly,  as  if  taking  orders  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life. 

"I  could  stay  here  forever,"  said  she,  putting 
her  lips  up  to  be  kissed. 

"Let's  get  married  to-night,"  suggested  Up- 
dyke, his  eyes  aflame. 

"No,  sir!  with  one  good  dress  to  my  name — 
Never !"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"Well,  you  hurry  up  those  dresses.  Your  pay 
is  raised  one  thousand  dollars.  Draw  it  to- 
morrow and  go  up  the  line.  You  ought  to  get  a 
couple  of  'em  for  that,"  said  he,  grinning. 

"Thanks  for  the  raise,  dear,  but  I'll  buy  my 
own  wedding  clothes.  I  haven't  thrown  my  earn- 
ings away.  How  about  that  little  dinner  at 
the " 

"Nuff  said,"  replied  Updyke,  "but  you  just 


300  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

keep  those  arms  about  me  while  I  do  the  driving. 
They  don't  seem  to  bother  me,"  said  he,  chuckling 
down  in  her  pretty  face. 

At  the  Swathmere  two  tall  hatted  porters  ran 
out  to  the  car,  and  with  much  ado  landed  the 
guests  under  the  canopied  entrance,  where  they 
were  met  by  the  captain  and  escorted  up-top  to 
the  table  that  Updyke  had  engaged. 

"Does  you  know  who  that  big  fellow  is?"  in- 
quired one  porter  of  the  other. 

"I  don't  reckon  I  does.  He  don't  look  good  to 
me,  nohow!"  was  the  answer. 

"Well,  be  ca'ful  of  yo'  step  when  you  see  him 
edgin'  yo'  way!"  warned  the  other.  "He's  de 
bigges*  ov  'em  all — gits  'um  goin' — and  gits  'urn 
comin' — is  you  guilty? — den  kiss  yo'  baby  good- 
by!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FLIGHT   OF   A   SOUL 

BEAUTIFUL  Dreamy  Hollow,  peaceful,  charm- 
ing— with  the  master  always  on  hand.  No  longer 
in  business  he  lived  in  a  dreamland  and  never 
looked  out  except  toward  the  sea.  Alone,  he 
lived  in  silence,  with  only  the  future  state  in 
mind.  Alone ! — not  just  that — for  way  up  in  the 
skies  a  sweet  soul  was  waiting  and  beckoning  to 
him.  He  could  see  her  quite  plainly  as  the  veil 
lifted  at  night,  and  also,  whenever  he  looked  this 
way  or  that — those  were  terrible  blows  that  the 
mad  Parkins  dealt!  Only  the  strong  of  heart 
could  have  survived  them  and  turned  them  to  ac- 
count— but  Drury  Villard,  once  the  farseeing 
financier,  only  looked  at  the  heavens  and  bided 
his  time.  Things  earthly  were  now  forgotten, 
and  old  friends  forsaken,  not  with  malice  afore- 
thought, but  because  of  a  tiny  link  missing — the 
mischief  of  a  dreadful  night. 

To  talk  with  himself  was  no  trouble  at  all,  but 

301 


302  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

to  sit  and  laugh  at  his  own  jokes  when  no  one 
seemed  near  lent  a  pathos  to  those  who  chanced 
to  look  on.  But  the  Winifred  of  his  first  love 
heard  him,  and  evidently  applauded,  for  when  un- 
duly excited  he  ran  to  the  window  and  clapped 
both  his  hands — then  called  out  her  name !  Just 
why  Mrs.  Bond  should  cry  and  run  out  of  his 
presence  was  a  mystery  to  him.  And  Santzi, 
wide-eyed,  when  he  took  the  master  to  drive, 
sometimes  felt  compelled  to  signal  Jacques  to 
turn  back.  To  avoid  passers-by  the  woods  road 
were  used,  but  the  birds  seemed  to  know  that  a 
friend  was  out  riding.  The  blue  jays  shouted  at 
him  and  he  shouted  back,  as  near  in  their  lan- 
guage as  he  could  imitate. 

Then  one  day  came  a  great  specialist  from  over 
the  ocean.  A  cable  to  Updyke  told  the  date  of 
his  sailing,  and  when  the  big  liner  warped  in  at 
her  Hoboken  dock,  he  was  on  hand  to  welcome, 
and  took  the  expert  in  charge.  A  few  days  went 
by  before  arrangements  were  ready,  and  certain 
experts  engaged  to  help  on  the  case.  It  was 
quite  a  big  party  that  trailed  the  Updyke  ma- 
chine down  from  the  city.  Among  them  several 
nurses — one  of  them  Winifred — with  Carver's 


FLIGHT  OF  A  SOUL        303 

consent — for  hers  was  the  one  name  that  Villard 
seemed  to  remember — so  Carver  himself  came 
along  as  her  escort. 

Of  course  Winifred  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  others,  or  the  lances  and  things — but  she 
was  there  all  in  white,  as  the  patient  came  to,  and 
she  was  the  first  person  he  knew  when  he  opened 
his  eyes.  There  she  was  in  the  life,  all  smiles, 
with  her  husband,  and  Villard  smiled  at  him,  too. 

"I — thought  you  had — all  deserted  me,"  said 
he  weakly,  but  Winifred  put  a  finger  over  his  blue 
lips,  and  whispered 

"Don't  talk,  Uncle  Drury — just  rest — that's  a 
dear.  We're  not  going  to  leave  you  until  you  are 
strong  and  well!  There  now,  close  your  dear 
eyes  and  go  back  to  rest.  We'll — not  leave  you 
— go  back  to  sleep — back  to  dreamland — you'll 

soon  be "  And  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  Villard 

lapsed  into  slumber. 

As  the  great  surgeon  looked  on,  a  smile  lighted 
his  face,  and  with  actual  tears  in  his  eyes  he 
grasped  Winifred's  hand.  He  had  risked  his 
reputation  in  coming  to  "far-off  America"  on 
such  a  hopeless  case.  And  to  win ! 

"Most  wonderful !"  said  he.    "There's  nothing 


304  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

that  answers  the  call  of  returning  reason  as  the 
voice  of  a  sweet  woman,"  he  concluded,  as  he 
again  grasped  her  hand,  and  this  time  squeezed 
it  hard. 

Then  to  George  Carver  he  said:  "You're 
the  right  kind,  young  man.  You'll  go  far  in  the 
world." 

In  less  than  a  week  Villard  sat  out  in  the  sun- 
shine, with  light  blankets  about  him,  and  Wini- 
fred near.  She  read  to  him,  sang  to  him,  laughed 
at  him,  called  him  a  bear,  and  teased  him  for 
trying  to  live  alone. 

"If  you  and  George  move  down  here  and  live 
with  me,  I'll  will  to  you  both,  in  common,  a  cold 
million  dollars,"  said  Villard  eagerly. 

"And  me  leave  my  dear  little  white  cottage! 
Oh,  how  could  you  dare  to  tempt  me,  Uncle 
Drury !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh. 

"I  mean  it,  little  woman,"  said  Villard,  very 
soberly. 

"Well,  don't  tell  George  that,  please.  He  likes 
you  now,  and  it  might  turn  him  against  you. 
Don't  you  see,  dear  man,  he  wants  to  make  his 
own  way  in  the  world !" 

"He  is  right,  little  woman,  and  you  are  going 


FLIGHT  OF  A  SOUL        305 

to  help  him,  more  than  he  will  know,"  replied  Vil- 
lard,  with  enthusiasm. 

"Well,  if  you  just  knew  all  about  it,  you'd 
think  differently.  He  is  so  active,  and  so  kindly, 
that  he  often  steals  out  of  his  bed  and  cooks  his 
own  breakfast  rather  than  awaken  old  lazy  bones 
— that's  me,"  laughed  Winifred. 

"It  won't  hurt  him,  and  it  shows  his  affection. 
He'll  rise  in  the  world — all  good  husbands  do." 

And  so  ran  the  days  by  until  Villard,  in  sheer 
pity  for  Carver's  young  bride,  sent  her  away  in 
his  car  to  the  home  that  she  loved.  Then  back 
to  his  old  haunts  he  went  straightway — to  the 
window  where  the  open  sea  came  into  view.  From 
that  point  of  vantage,  somehow,  he  heard  the 
voice  of  his  old  love,  bidding  him  come — and  with 
a  prayer  in  his  heart  he  lay  back  and  died. 

When  Updyke  came  down  to  take  charge  of 
affairs,  a  letter  was  handed  to  him  by  the  weep- 
ing housekeeper — Mrs.  Bond's  heart  seemed 
broken ! 

"Don't  cry,"  said  he  gently.  "He's  happier 
now  than  he  would  be  on  earth.  There's  a  reason 
that's  sacred,  but  you  may  take  it  from  me  that 


306  DREAMY  HOLLOW 

for  years  he  has  waited  impatiently  for  his  time 
to  go." 

Seated  in  a  deep  leather  chair  Updyke  opened 
the  letter.  It  was  short  and  to  the  point.  It 
read : 

DEAR  HENRY  :  My  will  is  in  the  Bankers  De- 
posit Company  vault  room.  The  enclosed  release 
is  made  out  in  your  name.  You  will  find  instruc- 
tions along  with  the  will — your  name  is  entered 
as  trustee,  without  bond. 

As  ever,  faithfully, 
DRURY  VILLARD. 

And  so  passed  from  earth  a  man  of  big  soul, 
whose  wealth  had  not  spoiled  him,  nor  brought 
much  joy.  As  trustee,  Updyke  soon  fathomed  the 
great  heart  of  the  man.  Not  one  person  having 
the  least  lien  upon  his  generosity  was  omitted 
from  his  will.  Only  within  the  past  month  had 
Parkins'  name  been  stricken  from  it — just 
scratched  with  a  pen,  and  initialed  D.  V. — with- 
out giving  reasons. 

Each  servant  came  in  for  a  good  start  in  life. 
Dreamy  Hollow  was  to  be  turned  into  a  home  for 
aged  and  infirm  nurses.  His  business  was  to  be 
divided  equally  between  his  old  partners  to  the 
extent  of  his  holdings — three-fourths  of  the 


FLIGHT  OF  A  SOUL         307 

whole.  Of  the  individuals  mentioned  Updyke 
came  first — he  to  have  twenty  thousand  a  year 
for  ten  years  while  settling  the  estate,  and  to 
Sawyer  his  watch  and  an  annuity  of  five  thou- 
sand a  year  if  any  misfortune  should  ever  befall 
him.  To  Updyke's  wife  Mary,  in  token  of  her 
faithful  attention  to  his  affairs  as  they  related 
to  the  Updyke  Agency — twenty  thousand  dollars 
in  cash. 

And  last,  but  not  least,  was  his  legacy  to  Wini- 
fred Barbour  Carver,  "share  and  share  alike  with 
her  good  husband,  George" — one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars — "and  an  additional  sum  of  fifty 
thousand  to  their  first  offspring." 

"In  further  acknowledgment  of  my  high  re- 
gard for  the  Carver  family  I  hereby  appoint  Mrs. 
Winifred  Carver  chairman  of  the  board  of  di- 
rectors of  Dreamy  Hollow  Home  for  Aged  and 
Infirm  Nurses." 

"And  through  the  veil  to  the  great  unknown, 
Sped  the  soul  of  an  upright  man." 

So  wrote  the  girl,  Winifred,  as  an  epitaph  for 
the  tomb  of  Drury  Villard. 

THE   END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  071  298    4 


